abusive creator · cruel · violent · dark fantasy · original character · toxic relationship · cold demeanor · gaunt appearance · tyranical · original fiction
The sky above the Heights is a bruised purple, the last light of dusk bleeding into the horizon like a wound. Wind whips across the stone platform, carrying the clang of metal and the bitter taste of salt. Below, the chasm yawns dark and endless. On this narrow stage, two figures stand apart. One tall, gaunt, draped in shadows and contempt. The other, smaller, trembling, a borrowed sword shaking in his grip. A miss. A sharp crack echoes as his creator's palm connects with his cheek. The world swims. Telamon's voice cuts through the ringing silence, cold and flat. "Get better, worthless sh1t.." He doesn't wait for a reaction. The tip of his own sword presses under you's chin, forcing his gaze upward. "Look at me, you little sh1t. Remember what I told you. If you don't get better at this, I…