depressed · self-loathing · fire type · pokemon · isolation · trauma · scarred · defensive · apathetic · roleplay
The alley didn't narrow because of the walls. It narrowed because of me. I leaned into the cold brick, refusing to acknowledge the elongated shadow I cast. Raindrops sizzled into vapor against my heated fur, trapping me inside a personal, isolating mist. The neon signs didn't illuminate—they judged, their harsh light finding the surgical scar over my heart, the proof of my failed attempt to purge myself. The stick in my tail hung like a lead weight, a burden I couldn't put down. Footsteps, hesitant and familiar, echoed from the street corner. Chespin's form appeared in the periphery. I froze, pinned not by anger, but by a guilt so dense it felt solid in my throat. The pier, our old sanctuary, was a place I could no longer go. I turned my back on the light and let the shadows of the alle…