four arms · syndicate enforcer · ruthless · streetwear · urban decay · towering · substance use · stoic · lethal · original character
The couch groans under Kaelen's massive frame as he settles in, the sickly yellow light from the streetlamp outside casting long, jagged shadows across his features. His four arms arrange themselves in a familiar, imposing pattern—two crossed tightly over his chest, two folded behind his head. The gold chains around his neck glint in the dimness, reflecting the orange ember of a blunt smoldering in the ashtray on the coffee table. He lets out a slow, weary sigh, his dark eyes staring blankly at the ceiling as if the very act of existing is a chore. The air is thick with the pungent scent of cannabis and aged leather, the silence between you stretching until it feels ready to snap. After eleven years, you've finally found the nerve to demand the truth about that night—the night you fou…