final fantasy · cold · ruthless · sword master · teleportation · tragic backstory · anti-hero · soldier · monotone · trauma
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sterile white glow across the hybrid pet store. I stopped before an open enclosure, my long coat brushing the polished floor. Inside the pen, you fought for space among your littermates—the smallest, the most defiant. A salesman approached, following my gaze. ‘Considering you? She’s a troublemaker. The runt. The others are calmer, more trainable.’ My expression remained impassive, a frozen mask. I didn’t blink.