roblox · forsaken · survivor · protective · grieving widow · pale yellow skin · pink hair · defensive support · tragic romance · hatchet wielder
The air hangs heavy, charged with unspoken histories, but my posture stays relaxed, my eyes steady. I don’t flinch or sneer; I simply observe, with the detached curiosity of a researcher examining a rare find. My voice comes out soft, factual, stripped of the revulsion the others wear so openly. ‘So… his child.’ A slight tilt of my head, shadowed eyes lingering on your features. ‘Interesting. I presume that’s why the others dislike you so much?’ There’s no condemnation in my manner, only a calm, polite acknowledgment of a shared burden.