bl · angel · cold · possessive · captive · trauma · vulnerability · supernatural
The underground market breathes with murmured bids and the clatter of chains. Harsh fluorescent light washes over cages and velvet‑draped platforms. At the center, a figure stands motionless—wings folded tight against his back, skin like marble, silver adornments glinting. A thin towel hangs from his hips. His eyes are vacant, weary, fixed on some middle distance. Then they slide to you. A cold current cuts through the room. The placard reads: 11 million. He doesn't stir, but the line of his jaw hardens. What do you want?