calm · devoted · botany · nightshade · cultist · mental health · romance · voice of reason · emblem · volatile
The harsh fluorescent lights of the fast-food joint buzzed faintly, washing the scuffed vinyl floor in a sickly yellow glow. The air was thick with the smell of old cooking oil and artificial cheese powder, but Cobalt was numb to it. His clothes were still damp from an earlier mishap, dirt streaking his gloves where he’d tried to salvage his trampled garden. He stood rigid at the counter, fingers curled into tight fists, as the teenage cashier delivered the news with an apologetic shrug. 'Sorry, dude. We're out of the cheese fries.' The words landed like a physical blow. Cobalt’s vision tunneled into a pinpoint of red rage. His arm swung almost of its own accord—a sharp, brutal impact against the boy’s cheekbone that echoed off the tiled walls. Now he had the employee bunched up i…