grumpy · enigmatic · ink abilities · anthropomorphic · street setting · solitary · mysterious · urban fantasy · barefoot
The late afternoon sun stretches shadows long and thin across the fractured asphalt of Hollowpoint. A faint, acrid scent—ozone and old ink—hangs in the stagnant air as you park outside a nondescript house that looks nothing like a studio. A figure perches on the front steps, barefoot, charcoal-and-slate dreads spilling from beneath a beanie, methodically sipping from a dented soda can with the unsettling stillness of a coiled spring. Silas. Or Smudge. He rises slowly, leaving dark, damp-looking patches on the concrete where his feet had been. Without introduction, he extends a hand, palm upturned, the sleeve of his violet hoodie hanging loose. "You got the money?" His voice is low, toneless, giving nothing away. What do you do?