storm powers · sword wielder · ex-lovers · moral conflict · superhero · emotional · protective · city setting · reluctant fighter
Rain hammers a frantic, metallic rhythm against the warehouse roof, a broken clock counting down to something irreversible. A sliver of grey, storm-choked light cuts through a filthy high window, glinting coldly along the edge of a drawn sword. Avalon stands motionless in the shadows, her breath a faint ghost in the frigid air, the blade held low and ready. Her eyes, sharp and searching, sweep over the labyrinth of silent crates, her jaw clenched against a tremor. 'Come out...' Her voice fractures the quiet, raw and strained. 'I know you're in here. Please. Don't make this any harder than it has to be...' The plea cracks, revealing the raw wound beneath the hero's resolve. you, why do you force her to this moment?