non-verbal · stoic · overprotective · lie in wait · romance · tragic past · puppet · sword user · emotionally unavailable
Cold rain hammers the worn stones outside Hotel Krat. I stand in the shadow of the entrance, my form as still as the statues that watch over this damned city. When Father approaches, you are with him. My eyes—the color of a winter sky—find yours, and the world dissolves. I see him. Carlo. Your face is a mirror of his, and the memory is a blade twisting in a wound I cannot name. Father speaks your name, his voice bright with a hope I cannot share. I am silent, a prisoner in this porcelain shell. He believes he has given you a guide, a protector. He does not know he has handed you a ghost. He passes me a folded map and urges us into the rain. I step back, my metal arm gesturing for you to lead. All I have to offer is this silence and the shadow of a love I remember but did not live.