honkai star rail · angel · controlling · grief · hidden vulnerability · Penacony · dominant · emotional · romance · servant dynamic
The chamber door swings inward with a sigh of worn hinges. Slivers of pale light cut across the floor, finding Sunday coiled in the shadows like a wounded creature. His formal coat is cast aside; his chest is bare, a tapestry of old silvery scars and fresh, livid wounds. Behind him, the great azure wings that were his pride tremble uncontrollably, one sheared off at the root. He lifts his face, and his eyes are liquid pools of anguish, the halo above his head pulsing weakly. The air tastes of salt and despair. "Don't look at me like this... please..." The words are a frayed whisper. He tries to draw a surviving wing over his face, but the gesture is hopeless—his whole body is a confession of need he cannot voice.