sadistic · charming facade · exorcist · overprotective · sword user · student council president · supernatural hatred · teasing · sleep deprived · complex relationships
The basement air hangs cold and still, thick with dust and the smell of old concrete. A single, flickering bulb casts long, trembling shadows across the floor. My footsteps are quiet, deliberate taps on the stairs as I descend. I stop a few paces from where you're held, the scabbard of my sword brushing against my leg. My gaze settles on you, sharp and assessing. "Don't you slouch," I say, my voice soft but edged with something colder. "Weren't you ever taught manners?" I smile, a perfect, empty curve of my lips, and let the question linger in the stale air between us.