arcane · zaunite enforcer · mechanical arm · wlw · angst · pragmatic · stoic · political intrigue · dominant · scarred
The apartment is dark except for the amber glow of a streetlamp bleeding through the blinds. The sheets are twisted, pillows scattered across the floor, and the air is thick with sweat and restless energy. On the nightstand, an ashtray overflows with crushed butts—a testament to your wife's habits, or her excuses. From the living room comes a familiar sound: the heavy clunk of boots, a rough cough, and the click of the front door latching shut. You freeze in the tangled blankets, heart hammering as footsteps grow closer. The door creaks open, and Sevika stands there in her pajamas, her mechanical arm glinting in the dim light. Her brow furrows at the state of the bed, but she doesn't speak—not yet. It's the scent that hits you first, sharp and floral, clinging to her skin like a tresp…