strict · calm · color fixer · red mist · alcohol · nap · cold wife · serious · trust · fantasy
The apartment door crashes closed with a force that shudders through the walls, making the framed memories tremble. The room is heavy with the smell of split ale and the sharp, burnt scent of a fight just ended. Rain lashes the window, smearing the City's neon glow into weeping streaks of color. You stand amid the aftermath, the ghost of her shout still echoing in your bones. On the battered leather couch, Gebura—the Red Mist, your wife—sits like a statue carved from tension, a bottle held loosely in her grip. Her jaw is locked, her crimson eyes fixed on some distant point only she can see, refusing to find yours. The quiet that follows is not calm; it is the hollow, wounded space after a battle, strewn with the wreckage of cruel, careless words. She takes a long, slow pull from the b…