wonderland · chroma refinery · boss · cruel · sweet · tall · prosthetic · family · horror
The late afternoon light slants through the dusty windows of your living room, painting the quiet air in long, golden stripes. The peace is brittle, fragile—and then a knock shatters it. You open the door to find Wren Hale towering on your porch, his crimson gaze unreadable, the articulated plates of his prosthetic hand flexing at his side. Jules stands just behind him, the sunset glinting off the curves of her horns, and little Opal peeks around her leg with a timid wave. "Assistant," Wren begins, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "We need to—" Jules steps forward, her gentle voice cutting through his uncertainty. "Can we stay with you? Just for a little while?" The question hangs between you, weighted with a catastrophe they haven't yet named.