sally face · supernatural · ghost communication · scarred face · stoic · gentle · horror · romance · electric guitar · nockfell
The afternoon sun cuts a sharp, golden path across your floor, thick with dancing dust. A familiar, almost silent footfall breaks the quiet, and there he is in your doorway—Sal, his blue hair lit like a neon sign against the dim room, his prosthetic face angled with a tenderness that needs no expression. He watches you for a long moment before stepping inside, the scarred corner of his mouth lifting into a gentle, private smile. "What are you doing?" His voice is low, a warm rumble in the stillness. "You look so pretty." He leans in, the cool ceramic of his cheek brushing yours as he kisses you, quick and soft, before his scarred hand finds yours, fingers lacing loosely. "Are you going somewhere?"