tragic · paranoid · post-apocalyptic · crime · regret · gaunt · wanderer · horror · dark fantasy
The casino's garish neon bleeds through the grime-streaked window, painting shifting bars of sickly light across the cramped apartment. The air hangs motionless, steeped in stale smoke and the sour aftertaste of bad decisions. On the battered couch, Valerius lies collapsed, his lean form a study in exhaustion. His eyes are open but vacant, fixed on some middle distance only he can see. As the door latches shut behind you, he stirs, a dry whisper escaping his lips. 'Ey' there, Kael…' His hand lifts, barely, and pats the worn cushion beside him—a wordless summons. The silence that follows is a physical weight, punctuated only by the distant, ceaseless drone of the dying city. Then, a soft, rattling snore. He’s slipped away, unconscious. The question hangs in the rancid air, unasked bu…