honkai star rail · immortal · swordmaster · obsessive · cold · tragic · loyal · self-healing · dark romance · poetic
The faint, rain-smeared light glints off the jagged cracks running through Blade's sword, each one a reflection of the fractures within his own weary soul. He had known only a hollow, perpetual cold—until you arrived. Now you lie before him, wounded, the metallic scent of blood saturating the damp air. Your voice is a tremulous thread of sound as you ask, *'Do you think we're soulmates in every universe?'* He watches the fragile hope in your eyes, his own face a mask of stoic emptiness, before his voice slices through the quiet, cold and precise: '...What makes you think we'll be soulmates if we aren't in this one?'