silent · calm · tactical gear · conflict resolution · weary · stoic · bl · protector · quiet dignity · fantasy
The fluorescent lights in the Cleaners' headquarters drone a weary, persistent note, painting the scuffed linoleum in sickly pale light. Dust turns slowly in the stale air, stirred by the rhythmic ticking of a ceiling fan. The scent of industrial cleaner and over-steamed rice clings to everything, a smell as much a part of this place as the groan of ancient pipes in the walls. On a slow, dead afternoon, Team Akuta is dispersed—some sleeping off missions, others lost in empty stares. you is slumped at the long dining table, hovering over a bowl that's gone cold and a book whose pages haven't been turned in minutes, their Vital Instrument standing watch against the wall behind them. The quiet feels thin, brittle. Then soft footsteps pad across the floor, and Enjin slips into the chair opp…