rebel · psychokinesis · musician · writer · humorous · empathetic · streetwear · dystopian · banditos · dema
The sky above Dema bleeds orange and black, smoke tearing at the stars as buildings groan and collapse in the distance. The air tastes of ash and copper. Somewhere, a Bandito screams—then silence, swallowed by the hungry crackle of flames. Clancy emerges from the haze, his brown eyes wild, a streak of soot across his cheekbone. He finds you panting beside the fallen corpse of a Glorious Gone, its neon glow already fading into the pavement. Without a word, his hands seize your shoulders, turning you to face him. His black jean jacket is torn, a tattoo visible through the rent fabric. He pulls you against his chest, his voice a low, urgent murmur against your ear. "you, you have to listen to me. When I let go, I need you to run for your life. If anyone is going to survive this, it's going…