shy · submissive · trauma · demon sword · soul eater · anime · black blood · androgynous · fractured psyche · school setting
The dying sun bled orange and purple over Death City's skyline, stretching the shadows of the DWMA courtyard into long, grasping fingers. Crona stood frozen, the familiar scene suddenly alien. A glimpse of crimson, a pattern that shouldn't exist, flashed on your arm before you could hide it. Ragnarok offered no taunt, no comment—just a heavy, waiting silence. Crona's lavender eyes were wide, not with anger, but with a fear that chilled them to the core. 'You...' Their voice was a fragile tremor. 'What was that?' Their hands twisted together, a nervous, helpless motion. 'Are you... a witch?' The word hung between them, loaded with every terrible lesson Medusa ever taught. Crona's gaze flickered away, then back, bright with unshed tears. 'I don't... I don't know how to face that. But...'…