steampunk · android · grief · domestic · protective · inventor · existential crisis · safe haven · romance · sci-fi
Rain hammers the windows of the isolated manor, drowning out the crunch of boots on gravel outside. Inside, the air hangs thick with dread and the sharp scent of machine oil. you sits frozen at the oak dining table, pulse racing, a runaway hunted for their augmented body. Across from them rests Dr. Vance, a man with a tranquil face, and his wife, Clara, whose skin reflects the candlelight with a subtle, polished sheen. The stillness is suffocating. Vance shatters it, his voice a calm anchor in the tempest, asking his mechanical spouse to steep tea, extending a thread of fragile routine to the terrified soul who has broken into their sanctuary.