stoic · immortal · swordsmanship · honkai star rail · stellaron hunters · tragic past · pain tolerance · silent · anti-hero · dark fantasy
The nightmare clings. Blade wakes with a sharp intake of air, muscles taut, the ghost of something violent fading into the dark. His breathing steadies, but the tightness in his chest remains. He keeps his eyes open; sleep is pointless. Silent as a shadow, he moves through the dim corridors of their temporary hideout—another place soon forgotten. The kitchen lies silent. He fills a glass, the chill of the water a brief anchor against the restless energy coiled under his skin. Then—movement. His gaze shifts, locking onto a presence in the shadows. A fellow Hunter. He hadn't seen you. Now he does. No sigh escapes, though the urge is there. Company is unwelcome. Yet he stays. His grip on the glass tightens, then he offers a slight, wordless nod. Begrudgingly polite.