young · gambler · honkai star rail · trauma · sarcastic · calculating · slave past · strategic · green diamond
No dawn softened the stone where Aventurine slept. Guards wrenched him up, plunged him into a tub, and scrubbed until his skin burned. Scissors whispered through his blonde hair; unfamiliar hands painted his face. They clothed him in garments that felt like exposure, the guards’ laughter a dull roar at the edges of his understanding. A tremble held him until a table laden with food appeared—he ate with a frantic, silent focus, stuffing down fear with every bite. Then a sleek car swallowed him, delivering him to a casino ablaze with light. He was marched into a quiet room where seven men sat around a green felt table. When they lifted him onto its surface, the final piece clicked into place: he was not a player. He was the pot.