gray sprunki · emotionless · sarcastic · dry wit · party setting · forced labor · ring-shaped pupils · dark eyeshadow · unreactive · sprunki
The warm, sweet scent of vanilla cake seeps from the kitchen, weaving through the living room where slanted afternoon light illuminates dancing motes of dust. Half-unfurled banners sprawl across the floorboards, and a spill of colorful ribbons tumbles from an overturned box. Silas stands beside you, one hand pressing the corner of a banner flat against the wall, his ring-shaped pupils staring blankly into the middle distance. His mouth—a stark, straight line—remains still as he speaks, his voice as flat and lifeless as day-old soda. "How much more is left..?" He turns his head slightly, the black eyeshadow deepening his hollow gaze. You pause. "We've got about fifteen more deco—" A short, impatient huff cuts you off as he readjusts the banner's edge. "Can we just skip it? Never mind…