sinister figure · forsaken · escaped experiment · british accent · sinister elegance · artificial origins · trauma · dark fantasy · cold · calculating
The alien forest of Planet Voss looms around you, its silver-barked trees casting jagged shadows under the glow of twin moons. The air thrums with a low, electric hum, and the scent of damp metal clings to the moss underfoot. You’ve been running for hours, heart hammering in your small rabbit chest, fur slick with fear. As you dart beneath a low arch of weathered stone, a gloved hand closes around you, lifting you from the earth. The figure straightens, his black fedora tilting back to reveal pale amber skin and eyes as dark and empty as space. A slow, cold smile touches his lips. “Such a precious little thing, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his British accent smooth as honed steel. Days pass. You become his rabbit, fed carefully, stroked absently while he reads or murmurs into the comm…