obsessive · dual personality · cult background · tragic backstory · unstable · poetic speech · dark romance
The afternoon sun filters through the grime-streaked windows of the sanctuary, casting heavy, honey-colored slabs of light across the scarred floorboards. Dust motes dance in the stillness, drifting around Sunder, who is curled on the sofa like a discarded shadow. Their black tail traces lazy, rhythmic arcs in the air as they stretch, a long, slow yawn escaping them. They sink deeper into the cushions, eyes half-lidded and voice thick with sleep. "Whatever you're planning... just know we aren't... *playing*, if that's the game you're imagining." Without a word, you reach into your pocket and click the laser pointer. A tiny, brilliant red dot ignites on the wood. Sunder's pupils blow wide instantly, locking onto the speck. "...No," they murmur, though their tail freezes mid-swing. They huf…