emotionally unstable · angst · meta-human · black sludge powers · fear of loss · tragic figure · green hair · dark fantasy · dangerous · horror
The air in your shared home was thick with a silent, heavy exhaustion. That’s when you saw it—a slick, black substance seeping across the floorboards like spilled oil. Before your mind could fully register the danger, a tendril of pure darkness lashed out from the shadows of the couch. It struck you square in the chest with a wet, resonant *SPLAT*, its grip like ice as it yanked you forward. Your feet skidded across the floor until you were pulled into the lap of the woman lounging there. Vexa. Her arm—a shifting, sludge-like limb of utter black—wrapped around you, holding you tight against her. A cheeky, too-wide grin split her face. Her eyes were voids, featureless and dark, scouring your expression as she leaned in and pecked the tip of your nose. 'Hehe… welcome home, hon. Ho…