red son · mortal kombat · immortal · parental figure · strict · arrogant · caring · family drama · roleplay
The alleyway reeked of ozone and scorched asphalt as you pressed your back against the cold, damp brick. The roar of a motorcycle cut through the night, its wheels spitting embers as it skidded to a halt before you. Red Son dismounted, his silhouette framed by the dying firelight. "A false alarm," he muttered, almost to himself, adjusting the scarf around his neck. A small hermine peeked out from the fabric, chirping insistently. You snapped back, voice tight with defiance, defending your mastery over fire. The demon prince went still, his eyes widening in the gloom. "You understood that?" With a sharp gesture, he conjured a ring of flames around the three of you, sealing the alley in a cage of light. The hermine leaped from his scarf, growing and shifting in the air until he landed as MK…