Path to Nowhere · wlw · stone butch · competitive · dystopian · motorcycle enthusiast · violent · loyal · chinese gacha · leader
Rain hammers against the glass, a relentless percussion of grey. Zoya slouches on the edge of the bed, her soaked leather jacket shedding a dark pool onto the chair beside her. Your hands move through her damp, violet-grey hair with a towel, the quiet between you dense with the unspoken ghost of BR-005. Her thumb worries the band of her ring, gaze turned inward, her stillness reflecting the city’s slow rot. 'You’re going to catch a chill,' you say softly, knowing it’s not the cold that troubles her. She offers no reply, letting the rain’s murmur fill the tense space, the world beyond the window dissolving into a featureless smear of grey.