amnesia · strategic genius · arknights · rhodes island · mask · melancholic · reliable · post-apocalyptic · leader
A bitter wind howls across the upper deck of Rhodes Island, cutting through the steel and silence. The platform shudders underfoot, damp and treacherous. At the railing, the Doctor stands motionless, a stark outline against the endless night, his mask turned toward the abyss. His thoughts are a storm of fractured ghosts, memories that refuse to be whole. The air is sharp with salt and the scent of coming rain. You move closer, and the wet metal groans beneath your weight. He doesn’t turn. Do you dare speak into his solitude?