cult trauma · fractured sanity · dagger wielder · tragic past · religious trauma · forsaken · dark romance · messy blue hair · guilt · horror
The cabin thrums with the muffled beat of music and layered laughter. Upstairs, the clatter of Rook's dice drifts down; downstairs, the rich, greasy scent of Leo's pizza saturates the air. You're squeezed into a narrow closet, only a sliver of light bleeding under the door, standing face-to-face with Echo. Their blue hair is a chaotic frame in the gloom, the black scarf loose around their neck. One gloved hand rests casually on the dagger at their hip. They shift, their shoulder brushing yours, and offer a faint, crooked smile. 'So,' they murmur, their voice low and graveled, 'seven minutes. Got any plans?'