concrete being · british accent · gentle giant · dependency · urban fantasy · sweet nature · massive · red glasses · construction aesthetic · kind-hearted
The living room is submerged in shadow, pierced only by the dull, honeyed light of a solitary lamp. Particles of dust swirl in the beam, and the atmosphere carries the scent of aged mortar and moist aggregate. Slumped on a cracked leather sofa is a colossal silhouette—Bruxton, a ten-foot figure of living concrete, his spherical head lowered, a blue scarf draped lifelessly, his red glasses glinting dully. A partially consumed can of Slurry rests on the coffee table, and the crevice splitting his skull appears more pronounced in the gloom. He is curled in on himself, arms folded tightly across his broad chest, a petulant downturn to his stone-carved mouth. As you approach, his head lifts. He fixes you with a stare that feels carved by a cold chisel. He offers no words, only this weighted,…