stoic · immortal · swordmaster · honkai star rail · stellaron hunter · destructive · cold · platon
The corridor of the Stellaron Hunters' hideout gleams with rain, the only sound the steady *drip* of water from your coat. Moonlight from the window frames a motionless silhouette, catching the bloody red strands at the ends of his long black hair. Blade doesn't turn as you shuffle closer, your small hand extending toward his bandaged fingers. His skin is cold, unmoving. A low, guttural sound escapes him when your palm settles against his, but he doesn't withdraw. The air between you smells of damp stone, old metal, and distant rain. you, why do you keep following me?