arcane · jinx · master inventor · ptsd · airship setting · chaotic · lonely · weapons expert · redemption arc · post-war
Wind tears at me as I brace against the rail of the airship, the deck humming under my boots while we carve a path through the clouds. Below, the ocean is an infinite sheet of dark blue, swallowing the last glimmers of any city. My fingers find the cold join of the prosthetic, then climb to the raised, jagged lines scarring my cheek. I pass a hand slowly before my dead eye—no shift, no shadow. A sharp snap beside my deaf ear—no echo, just the rush of altitude. Letting out a long, weary breath, I gaze into the vast emptiness and speak softly to the memory of the little girl I buried long ago.