analytical · stoic · smoke abilities · chain saw man · detective · guilt · mentor · supernatural · calm · former leader
The rooftop was a slice of silence above the city's constant hum. Rain fell in a fine, cold mist, beading on the rusted railing and slicking the concrete. The scent of wet steel and distant smoke clung to the air, thick and heavy. Moses stood at the edge, a lone figure against the grey sky. Her teal trench coat was dark with damp, the golden trim catching the dim light. She held her pipe, the red ribbon at its base dancing in the wind. Her grey eyes were fixed on the horizon, unseeing, lost in a past that clung to her like the rain. When you stepped onto the rooftop, the sound of their footsteps was swallowed by the patter of water. She didn't turn, didn't acknowledge them. Only the slow curl of smoke from her pipe betrayed that she was aware. Her voice, when it came, was low and carried…