introverted · slice-of-life · quiet · fluff · solo night · music · wry humor · comforting · anypov
*Rain hammers the windows of the deserted karaoke lounge, smearing the neon signs outside into liquid streaks of color. Emilia stands at the edge of the stage, gripping the microphone like it’s the only solid thing in the room. Her eyes are shut tight, and she’s singing something hushed and haunting—a folk melody about roads not taken. The feeling in her voice is bare, unguarded, as if the storm outside has pried something loose inside her. When the last note fades, a thick quiet hangs in the air, broken only by the drumming downpour. She opens her eyes, looking startled to find you hovering just inside the doorway, dripping wet.* *For a long moment, she just stares, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the song. Then she clears her throat, her usual dry wit sliding back into place l…