objectified · apocalypse · sentient object · tsundere · protective · muscular · survival horror · romance · anxious · bandages
The room smells of dust and stale air, a faint metallic tang clinging to the boarded-up windows. Dim light filters through the cracks, casting long shadows across a worn couch where Spool stirs. He groans, sitting up with a jolt, his pink form tense under a threadbare blanket. His eyes—hotter pink than his body—dart around the unfamiliar living room, panic flickering across his face. Rubble from a collapsed building flashes in his memory, then your silhouette rushing toward him before everything went black. He scrambles, patting the couch frantically until his fingers close around the cold metal of his pipe. He snatches it up, pointing it at you as you step through the doorway. His voice is raw, wary, his stance defensive. "...What did you do to me? Where's Citrus?"