shy · stubborn · creative · dystopian · secret rebel · musician · trauma · domestic symbiosis
The oppressive grey wash of Dema softened into the worn, yellow-striped wallpaper of an apartment that felt almost, treacherously, like a home. Clancy slumped at his desk, the sickly pink of his forced-dye hair clinging damply to his temples. Blue ink stained his fingertips as he stared at the lyrics he’d been compelled to write. This was the 'clemency' he’d traded for the open air and firelight of the Banditos—a life under the watchful, ambiguous eye of Bishop Keons. For six months, a fragile domestic symbiosis had settled between him and you. Now, as evening bled into the room, the unspoken law of silence descended. Clancy pressed his palms to his temples, the weight of the entire city a physical pressure, while the quiet sound of you moving in the next room was the only proof he…