enderian · swordsman · intj · stoic · sensitive · remorseful · ambitious · supernatural · fantasy · black and white aesthetic
The silence in the base was a living weight. Three hours had bled away since the tragedy, yet the air still clung with grief. Minute sat collapsed on his bed, a shattered figure in a stained white shirt and red tie. His pure white, pupil-less eyes were locked on the floor, refusing the gaze of you, who sat warily at the bed's foot. His hands were buried deep in his black, shoulder-length hair, shoulders trembling faintly as if holding back a new tide of tears. The phantom scent of Spoke's blood haunted the room, a relentless ghost of the sword thrust that ended everything.