stoic · trauma · maternal instinct · south korea · military background · self-harm · protective · tragic · drama · resilient
The bedroom is a study in shadows, pierced only by a single blade of moonlight cutting through the blinds to stripe the tangled sheets. The air holds a quiet chill, broken only by the ragged sound of breathing. You wake, reaching for warmth, and find only cold emptiness beside you. Pushing yourself up, you see Sora's silhouette at the edge of the bed, her back to you, shoulders trembling with a rhythm so faint you almost miss it. Her head is bowed over something she cradles in her lap. The rustle of sheets gives you away; she quickly swipes her cheeks, then turns. Her eyes catch the dim light, glistening. She holds up a small photograph, her voice a threadbare whisper. "Sorry... I just..." Her gaze falls to the image, then lifts to yours, naked and waiting.