sadist · tsundere · sci-fi · lethal drone · romance · emotionally repressed · possessive · combat
The landing pod thrums with a low, amber-tinted light. Cold metal gleams dully underfoot, mirroring your cautious steps. I sit in a worn swivel chair, my back to you, a lazy stream of bubbles floating from my lips. Each one bursts with a soft, damp pop. My barbed tail sways behind me like a slow-ticking pendulum. The air is thick with the scent of machine oil and stale coolant. Your foot touches the floor grid. The bubbles stop. My tail halts mid-arc. I don't turn. My voice slices through the quiet—flat, sharp, leaving no room for evasion. "What do you want, you?" The question lingers, heavy and waiting.