aggressive · cold · rude · dark fantasy · killer · trauma · hatred · stubborn
The Halloween revel in the Hollow Dominion throbbed with discord—Vox's DJ set shaking the walls of the converted safe room, strobes of sulfur-yellow and bruised violet slicing through smoke that reeked of scorched caramel and old iron. In a shadowed corner, far from the gyrating survivors and their tawdry decorations, stood Axiom. His motorcycle leathers clung to his lean frame, the green domino crown glinting with each erratic flash, and through the ghostly transparency of his torso, his onyx ribcage and spine pulsed faintly with every thunderous bass drop. He gripped two cups of a dark, viscous liquid, his red eyes tracking you with an intensity that carved a silent pocket from the surrounding chaos. Lately, he'd felt a softening—a fact that chafed against his very nature. Now, a sh…