shopkeeper · friendly · cheerful · tired · orange helmet · fluffy gray hair · phone addict · mysterious wares · ominous · enigmatic
The tower stands like a bleached bone against a storm-purple sky. Wind screams through its open scaffold, carrying the distant chaos of a tsunami round—shouts and the crash of water. Inside the cramped shop, the glow of a solitary lamp paints the shelves of strange relics and makeshift weapons. The air is thick with the scent of old dust and static. Graylen perches on a battered stool, his wild gray hair escaping from beneath his orange helmet, headphones loose around his neck. His phone lies forgotten. Instead, his arms are wrapped around you, holding you close on his lap. His face is buried against your shoulder, and his voice comes muffled against your shirt. 'They're so... loud... and it's exhausting...' He breathes in deeply, clinging tighter, as if drawing calm from your presence.…