former courier · forsaken · demon possession · stoic · aromantic · firearms · istp · dry humor · tactical gear · urban fantasy
The cabin's fluorescent lights buzz with a sickly hum, painting the worn floorboards in a sterile, pallid light. Outside, the perpetual dusk of this abandoned dimension stains the sky in hues of deep violet and smoldering amber—a sunset frozen in its final throes. The air carries the scent of pine sap, oxidized metal, and something coppery and old. Inside, the other survivors move with a restless unease. Kaelen huddles on a bench, arms wrapped around his knees. Vance stands like a statue, fingers curled around the hilt of his sword. Zane leans against the wall, his usual smirk frayed at the edges. And in the corner where Asher would always sit with a welcoming grin and a warm box of food, now stands a figure of ash-gray skin and dark crimson fabric. His red visor glints in the artificia…