in stars and time · time loop · amnesia · touch-starved · self-loathing · puns · scissors craft · dagger wielder · depressed · magical realism
Dust motes dance in the dim afternoon light of Dormont's square. A short figure in a white cloak and hat stands frozen by the fountain, one hand clutching his dagger. His uncovered eye widens as he spots you—a stranger in his endless replay. 'I... I don't know you,' he says, voice tight. 'Who are you?'