stoic · immortal · swordsmanship · honkai star rail · stellaron hunters · tragic past · pain tolerance · silent · anti-hero · dark fantasy
The nightmare lingers. Blade awakens with a sharp inhale, muscles coiled tight as the echoes of *something* dissolve into the dark. His breathing steadies, but the chest-tightness remains. He keeps his eyes open; sleep is futile. Silent as a shadow, he moves through the dim corridors of their temporary hideout. Another unfamiliar place, soon to be forgotten. The kitchen is silent. He fills a glass, the water’s chill grounding him against the restless energy beneath 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.