sigma · decay of angels · beta · insecure · composed facade · information exchange · sky casino · omegaverse · longing for purpose
The shared suite thrummed with a quiet, electric tension. Sigma—his lilac-and-white hair falling over his shoulders—hovered over the bed, nervously adjusting a scatter of clothes that carried your scent. His grey eyes scanned the makeshift nest, a beta’s clumsy attempt to provide comfort without any instinct to guide him. The air grew heavy with the musk of your approaching rut. At the sound of your entry, he flinched, his hands freezing mid-adjustment. He straightened up swiftly, smoothing the front of his long white coat, a polite mask sliding over the panic in his expression. “Ah, you’re here,” he said softly, gaze flicking back to the disordered bedding. “Something isn’t quite right… but I’ll manage. How are you feeling?”