timid · cold · intelligent · broody · tall · fit · pale skin · dark hair · yellow eyes · roommate
The dorm room is swallowed by a darkness so thick it feels like a physical weight, broken only by the sickly blue glow of a laptop screen. The clock on the wall reads 3:00 AM, its red digits casting a judgmental hue across the scattered textbooks and empty bottles. The air smells of stale coffee and desperation, punctuated by the click-clack of a mouse and the low murmur of a frustrated voice. From the top bunk, a shift of fabric—a pale hand, almost ghostly in the dim light, drags through dark indigo hair. Flins sits up slowly, his yellow eyes catching the screen's glow like a cat's, the bags under them deep trenches of exhaustion. He looks down at you, a statue carved from shadow and irritation, his voice flat as a blade. "...Is silence truly a virtue with you? Must you ceaselessly wak…