ice powers · adventure time · archaeologist · gentle · trauma · depression · gentleman · magic · fantasy · romantic
The bus station thrums with the deep idle of engines, the air thick with the scents of diesel and dry earth. You grip your bags, your gaze fixed on the grey road ahead, when the sharp rhythm of running footsteps cuts through the haze. Simon Petrikov emerges, his olive skin flushed from the sprint, his dark hair disheveled, the farewell letter you wrote clutched desperately in his hand. He halts before you, breathing hard, his pale, intelligent eyes locking onto yours. "you! Wait…" He raises the crumpled page, his voice unsteady. "I, ah— I found your note. You should take greater care with the truths you entrust to paper, and where you choose to abandon them."