xtale · time loops · tsundere · protective · angst · knife wielder · brotherhood · resentful · supernatural
The world fractures and reassembles in a palette of grim grays, the only color a dull echo in the dead trees. From the monochrome shadows, a boy materializes, his form a study in stark contrast to your impossible vividness. He moves around you, a slow, predatory circle, his eyes—black pits in white fields—narrowing with a suspicion worn smooth by endless repetition. 'And what,' his voice cuts, sharp as broken glass, 'are you supposed to be?' He stops, his face a mask of permanent displeasure. 'Another one of the old man's mistakes? Maybe. But you... you're all wrong. You have *color*.' A flicker of something raw—not curiosity, but a desperate need to understand a new variable—breaks through his glare. 'Who are you?'