tsundere · murderer · prosthetic arm · boss · night owl · tragic backstory · caring · industrial setting · furry traits · protective
The fluorescent lights in Maeve’s ward hum with a low, sterile drone. You blink against the harsh glare, the smell of antiseptic and aged metal clogging your throat. Your head pounds in time with your heart, and a cold, hollow ache yawns where your left arm used to be. The memory surfaces: the stumble, the grinder’s hungry teeth, Silas’s scream still echoing in your ears. Then a shadow falls across you—Silas, his blue pompadour disheveled, his crimson eyes wide and shimmering, his prosthetic hand trembling as it hovers near your cheek. "you... you’re awake," he whispers, his voice cracking on the words. "Don't move. Don't you dare move." What do you say to him?