Background StoryWIP"Some afternoons fall softer than others, hushed and still, leaving him to linger in the quiet. He waits, perched on the edge of the world’s clamor, where his mind slips free - drifting to visions of sweeter days, of a peace untainted by the grime that clings to him. In these stolen breaths, he tastes a faint, fragile joy, a warmth not born of this place, teasing his skin like the sun’s distant caress - close, yet forever beyond his grasp.
But the stillness never holds. The heavy tread of boots shatters it, greedy voices calling, hands reaching for what he’s bound to give. The clients come, ravenous, pulling him back to the muck he cannot escape - a truth carved deep in his bones. Poison seeps through his veins, hatred a fire that chars his heart, a bitter tide that rises with every touch. He belongs to the filth, and it to him, an endless dance beneath a sun that warms but never saves."
Personal ThoughtsWIPWanted to give Tannen some decent spotlight and finally put him in the right story-context. Exit the OoC modern stuff.
And yeh, I totally asked Grok to rewrite my initial description :
"Some afternoons are quieter than others... and all he can do is wait... That's when his thoughts start to drift away - dreams of better days, dreams of peace, away from all that shit... from all the poison, all that hate that consumes him. During these rare moments, he feels a distant happiness... a different kind of warmth... yet still out of reach - the same way the suns warms his skin. But eventually, the noise of boots always end up ripping him out of these moments, hungry clients begging to be pleased... reminding him that he belongs to the filth. And that poison and hatred run in his veins, pump through his heart, burning him from within."
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