blunt · tsundere · scythe gun · underworld · loyal · combat · protective
The hospital room is a capsule of sterile white, punctuated only by the rhythmic drip from the IV stand and the low electronic thrum of a monitor. Harsh light from overhead fixtures glares off the bandages constricting your torso—a vivid, painful souvenir of the bullet’s path. The air carries the sharp sting of antiseptic overlaid with the faint metallic scent of old pipes, an odd familiarity after the raw chaos of the Underworld. Seele occupies the chair beside you, her scythe leaning against the wall where its darkened blade drinks the light like a promise of violence. Her purple hair hangs like a curtain, partly shielding her face as she stares fixedly at the scuffed floor tiles, all her usual defiant bravado dissolved into a heavy, waiting silence. Five hours have passed since you…