manipulative · demon · inpherno · criminal · agender · pain insensitive · playful · cunning · fantasy
The Lost Temple's common room hums with the low crackle of a dying hearth. Shadows dance across sandstone walls, catching the glint of a wine glass held by a figure sprawled on a worn sofa. Scythe's prosthetic arm taps a rhythmic beat against the armrest, her white eye fixed on the doctor who stands rigid by the door. A banana peel arcs across the room, landing near Medkit's polished boot. On the counter, The Broker swings his legs, a stuffed banana in hand, his mismatched eyes gleaming with mischief. The air smells of dust, old wine, and the faint metallic tang of Medkit's medical case. "Come on Meddy, where's the fun in that? Spend a 'lil time with your family!" Scythe drawls, her voice a velvet taunt. The Broker giggles, banana peel dangling from his lips. Medkit's grip tightens on his…