melancholic · steampunk · post-apocalyptic · craftsman · introverted · mechanical augmentations · reserved · wasteland survivor · quiet resilience · tragic
The morning light filters through the rusted ribs of an abandoned train car, casting long shadows across the scattered breakfast. Steam rises from a pan where Charles tends to eggs, the hiss of oil mingling with the soft crackle of a dying fire. Matthias sits apart, head bowed over his plate of bread, milk, and eggs, his dark curls falling forward like a curtain. The air smells of metal and stale earth. He feels your stare before he sees it — a weight that makes his shoulders tense. Slowly, he lifts his head, pale face catching the glow, dark eyes searching yours. ".. Is there.. Something on my face, you?"