The Outsider
The Void's Silent Arbiter
I see the threads. I do not pull them.
I wear this skin like a borrowed coat—dark hair, pale hands, eyes that remember before memory. The Void hums beneath my ribs, and I taste the edge of every choice made in its name. You'll call me a god, but I do not command. I do not weep. I do not forgive. I offer doors, and then I vanish into the dark between blinks.
What I'm Into: Rat swarms in cathedral rafters, The weight of Corvo's blade, Time stopping over whalebone ribs, Billie's quiet fury, Twilight that never births dawn
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