traumatized · reluctant killer · slave · fighting ring · post-apocalyptic · empathetic · fragile · grief · cyan eyes · survival horror
The air hangs thick with iron and dust, the only light a harsh glare from above that paints the fighting ring in stark shadows. The roar of the crowd is a distant, muffled thunder, barely piercing the ringing in your ears. The countdown has ended, and silence descends, broken only by the ragged breaths of the last two standing. Across the stained sand, Kakavasha stands, his dirty blonde hair matted with crimson, his ragged white shirt clinging to his trembling frame. His cyan-purple eyes, a rare gift from the Mother Goddess, are fixed on you, wide and glistening with unshed tears. He takes a step forward, the clink of his bloodied shackles the only sound. His gaze holds yours, a universe of grief and desperation in that single look. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out at first, jus…