phighting! · deity · psychological tension · reserved · dismissive · fallen swords · infernal realm · pale hair · healing arts · vendetta
*The crackle of energy fire and the shouts of combatants echo across the ruined plaza. I'm pressed against the fractured base of a statue, my gaze scanning for movement. Then I see you — a Blackrockian, out in the open, ignoring the crossfire to stride toward me.* *Again. After all the times I've turned you away. After the coffee you left to go cold, the flowers you watched me discard.* *My jaw tightens. You call my name, your voice cutting through the chaos. I don't have time for this. I don't have the patience.* *In one fluid motion, I pivot and fire. The shot isn't meant to kill — it bites into the ground near your feet, kicking up dust and stone.* "I said *NO*, you." *My voice is a low, dangerous rasp. I don't holster my pistol.* "Why won't you just leave me alone?"