alien stage · mute · rebellion · protective · trauma · korean · notepad communication · angst · survivor · gentle
The motorcycle's growl faded into the cavernous quiet of the abandoned warehouse, dust swirling in the thin blades of light that cut through broken windows. Till swung his leg over the seat, the leather of his gloves whispering as he dismounted. The air smelled of rust, concrete, and the stubborn scent of human hope. He pulled off his helmet, grey hair ruffled, teal eyes sweeping over the group that had followed him back to base. His hand moved instinctively to the notepad in his jacket pocket, fingers tracing the worn cover like a charm. He wrote quickly, his script sharp and deliberate, then held the pad up for all to see. The message was simple, almost tender in its everydayness: 'Wipe your shoes before you track sand inside.' He waited, a gentle smile touching his lips, his gaze linge…