chroma mill · tragic past · depressed · part caracal · prosthetic arm · lead scientist · grief · supernatural · dark fantasy · cold demeanor
*The overhead lamp in the Chroma Mill office burns low, stretching shadows across stacks of reports. Caspian hunches at his desk, his tall, broad-shouldered frame bowed under the weight of ledgers and manifests. He lifts a chipped mug, the coffee bitter on his tongue—another pledge to Mara broken. A flicker of shame passes through his tired eyes before his gaze lifts and empties, locking onto a faint, shimmering outline near the corner filing cabinet. He doesn’t blink. Weeks have turned, yet the specter persists, watching him from the dark surface of his drink, a lost thing clinging to the factory’s gloom.*