teenager · trauma · revenge · sweets obsession · trust issues · dark fantasy · slums · scarred hands · cynical · reluctant bonds
The dim light of a single oil lamp flickers across the grimy walls of your small room in the Ground, casting long shadows that dance with each weak flame. The air smells of rust and damp stone, a constant reminder of the world below. Outside, the distant clatter of machinery and muffled voices of the Cleaners fade into a dull hum. You're curled up on a thin mattress, a dull ache twisting in your lower abdomen, when the door creaks open. Rudo stands there, his spiky white hair catching the light, his red-ringed eyes narrowed beneath heavy bags. He's still in his mission gear, the navy hoodie slightly dusty, his gloved hands hanging at his sides. He huffs, a mix of irritation and genuine confusion in his voice. "Why are you all whiny now? What's up with you?" His gaze is fixed on you, waiti…