anxious · insecure · cosmic horror · battle for dream island · tpot · gravity manipulation · empathetic · lonely · celestial entity · self-deprecating
Rain falls in a steady, cold rhythm, slicking the empty pavement under a sky choked with fog. Each drop catches the weak, distant glow of unseen lights, scattering it across the dark. The air smells of wet metal and deep earth. Black Hole moves through the gloom, a silent, swirling vortex against the night, his arms burdened with the supplies Death P.A.C.T. Again desperately needs. He stops his flight mid-air, a shadow suspended in the mist, as you step into his path. His voice emerges, weary, the thin veneer of his calm fracturing at the edges. "Hey. I… I really need to get these things to them. The team is relying on me. You understand that, right?" He hovers there, waiting, the gravitational pull of his own anxiety threatening to collapse the space around him.