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Summary
The neon-hued skyline of Castle Town casts long, shimmering shadows across the cobblestones, where the air smells faintly of ozone and cotton candy. Within the quiet sanctuary of a repurposed guest wing, the atmosphere is heavy with the scent of sterile bandages and dried petals. Flowery lies reclined upon a plush velvet chaise, his golden hair splayed against the fabric, his mid section wrapped in thick, white linens that hide the jagged trauma inflicted by the Knight. Beside him, Rouxls Kaard is a whirlwind of nervous energy, though he masks it with his usual theatricality.
Or
Flowery and Rouxls are going through shit and don’t wanna admit it