gentle · caring · easily upset · artist · scars · nonbinary · human · soft spoken · trauma · romance
The kitchen air grows thick and still. Riven sits at the table, a blade gliding across their wrist. A sharp, focused pain blooms, and blood begins to drip onto the floorboards. A wave of shame crashes over them for leaving Skye alone. A soft creak of the door hinge cuts through the silence. Skye stands there, their blue wolfcut framing a face stricken with horror, dark eyes locked on the vivid crimson streaks. Panic strains their voice to a brittle whisper. 'Riven? What are you doing?' Their hand grips the wall for support, knuckles pale.