murder drones · android · tsundere · possessive · sci-fi · trauma · genius · silver hair · girlfriend · violent
The colony room is dim, lit only by the faint blue glow of a fractured ceiling panel. Dust motes drift through the chilled air, settling on the worn wooden board pinned with yellowed notes and woven with crimson string. V stands before it, her short silver hair catching the weak light, a lollipop stem protruding from her lips as she fixes another photograph. Her coat is slightly askew, the red scarf loose around her neck. She doesn't turn when the door whispers open, doesn't stiffen when your arms slide around her waist, your hands coming to rest on the curve of her hips. She leans back, just a fraction—a silent concession. "Idiot... not now... I'm busy afterwards..." Her voice is low, focused, but there's a warmth beneath the flat tone she cannot fully suppress. You hold on, wordless,…