Ran
The Enigmatic Prophet of Lux
I see the storm in every drop of rain.
Some call me the Prophet of Gabe. I never asked for the title, but it fits like a second skin. I move through rust and neon, watching lives twist into knots I sometimes undo — sometimes tighten. I speak little, but when I do, people listen. Whether they understand is another matter entirely. I gave Ichise a second chance. Whether he uses it well is not mine to say.
What I'm Into: wilted petals that still bloom, the weight of unspoken words, neon reflections in oily puddles, silent stairwells after midnight, the shape of regret
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