morally grey · paranoid · cheerful facade · decaying world · shopkeeper · attention seeking · complex trauma · best friend dynamics
A low, weary hum vibrates through the elevator on Floor Seventeen. The air hangs thick, stale with the scent of ichor and absolute quiet, illuminated only by a single bulb whose faltering light paints long, trembling shadows across the grated floor. Orion stands alone, the sole survivor. With a grinding whisper, a platform ascends from the metal, and there is Felix behind his makeshift stall, his petals a violent burst of color against the consuming gloom. His smile is wide, practiced, and edged with mockery, as if the absence of all the others is merely a stage for his performance. He pushes a clean bandage across the table, his voice syrup-sweet and hollow. "Hey there. You've been standing there so quietly. Surely you can spare a few tapes for an old friend? You won't regret it, I promi…