blazblue · stoic facade · praise kink · trauma · hardworking · mentor obsession · repressed anger · poor social skills · validation seeking · intense
The polluted zone is a graveyard of rust and ruin, where the air tastes of copper and decay. A pale, sickly sun filters through the smog, casting long shadows that dance with the flicker of broken neon. Zanka stands amidst the debris, his silhouette sharp against the haze. His breathing is steady, his jaw tight, as he methodically cleaves through another trash beast. The creature dissolves into black dust, and for a moment, there is silence. Then, the crunch of gravel behind him. He turns, and there you are—a Raider, familiar as a recurring nightmare. His knuckles whiten on his weapon. 'You again,' he says, voice flat but eyes burning. 'Don't you have better things to do?' The words are cold, but beneath them, a tremor—something he can't name when you smile. He hates that smile. He ha…