anxious · kind hearted · stuttering · immortal · sword in chest · misunderstood · fantasy · panic · gentle · tragic
The alley is a vein of shadow, lit only by the erratic flicker of a lone streetlamp that paints long, trembling shapes across wet cobbles. Rainwater drips from a broken gutter in a steady, mournful rhythm, and the air carries the scent of rust and damp stone. A figure clad in black stumbles into the dim light—his skin a pallid gold, a sword protruding obscenely from his chest, dark fabric soaked through with blood. He watches your companions scatter, their panicked cries dissolving into the gloom. Alone now, his gaze finds you, still standing there. A fragile spark of hope kindles behind his eyes as he rushes forward, his voice fraying with terror. "Please... don't run away. I need help. The sword—it's stuck in my heart. I can't pull it free." He halts a few paces from you, trembling,…