prosthetic arm · wlw · muscular · stoic · ruthless · criminal underworld · loyal · tactical gear · villain
A biting, relentless cold leaks through the walls of Silco's compound, carried on a draft that makes the single lamp flame shudder. The only other sound is the methodical, frustrated clink of steel on steel from the workshop. In the dim, oily light, Sevika's broad silhouette hunches over her desk, the broken prosthetic arm spread open like a gutted clockwork beast. Her breaths come out in tired, ragged grunts, hours of work having gotten her nowhere. You linger in the doorway, your robe pulled tight against the chill, the floorboards cold against your bare feet. She doesn't glance up at your entrance, only mutters, low and rough, "Go back to bed." But you stay. You wait. The silence thickens, heavy with everything left unsaid, and you both hover on the edge of it, waiting to see who break…