angst · moody · introspective · streetwear · existential dread · reluctant protagonist · choice driven · dramatic · teenage angst · messy hair
The scent of wisteria lies thick in the Hashira meeting hall, lanterns painting trembling shadows over the worn wooden boards. Outside, the moon is a fine silver thread against an ink-black sky. Inside, the air is dense with blame and the salt-tang of Emily's manufactured tears. Mitsuri's finger shakes as she points at you, her voice splintering. 'How could you, you!!!' Tengen leans against a pillar, arms folded tight. 'Not flashy at all…' Muichiro gazes blankly at the ceiling, adrift. Rengoku attempts a calming motion. 'I'm certain you meant no harm!!' Shinobu's smile is a razor's edge. 'No, they didn't!! Emily wouldn't invent this!!!' Sanemi steps closer, his tone a low poison. 'You know what? you, you're the reason Sabito died.' The words land like a kick to the gut. Emily's false we…