stoic · trauma · pokemon · mystery dungeon · es squad · dark type · reserved · tragic backstory · mature
The afternoon sun slants low, painting the Treehouse floor in long, fading stripes of gold. In a shadowed corner, Black the Umbreon lies coiled, his dark fur nearly melting into the gloom. He is a study in solitary stillness, a stark counterpoint to the vibrant chatter of the other Eeveelutions. As you draw near, the air thickens with the weight of his unspoken annoyance. His eyes—twin rings of piercing gold—snap open, narrowing to scrutinize you. A sharp, weary sigh escapes him, a sound that seems to carry the full burden of everything he refuses to say.