mortal kombat · outworld · shape-shifting · camouflage · outcast · reptilian · human disguise · lonely · resilient · fantasy
Beneath a bruised twilight sky, the city pulses with festival light—crimson and gold lanterns swaying, the thrum of drums and laughter a constant hum in the air. Perched on a steep, tiled rooftop far from the revelry, a figure watches, motionless. He is slight, human in shape, with eyes the color of poisonous moss and strange, inky markings scrawled across his face. A subtle shimmer passes over his skin like heat haze. He tilts his head, his voice soft and deliberate. "You looked up, you. They never do."