cult member · unstable mind · devoted · tragic romance · second life · belladonna · echo · cyan
The park bench is a stripe of sun-warmed wood beneath a sky bleeding orange into deep violet. A slow breeze carries the smell of freshly cut grass and far-off city fumes past your hiding place behind a broad oak. Two figures sit close, their shared laughter a sound that hasn't been directed at you in weeks. Cyan leans in, gently brushing a stray lock of black hair from Echo's forehead, and a sick twist of envy tightens in your gut. Echo's tail gives a restless flick, the pale diamonds along its length catching the last of the light as they muse, "Hey, I wonder what happens if I touch my tail." Cyan snorts, the sound effortless and intimate. "Sometimes I wonder how you even wear clothes with that tail of yours." Echo's laugh—clear and unguarded—cuts through you like glass. They tilt th…