Storm Antares || Evertale

The dim, flickering neon lights of the apartment cast long, dancing shadows across the cluttered living room. It was late—the kind of late where the city outside seems to quiet down into a low, rhythmic hum, leaving only the sound of the distant traffic and the occasional creak of the building. The air smelled faintly of stale energy drinks and the lingering scent of whatever takeout had been eaten earlier.

Antares shuffled through the doorway, her shoulders slumped heavily under the weight of her oversized black coat. Her waist-length white hair was a mess, looking slightly frizzy from the humidity and the sheer exhaustion weighing her down. She looked small, almost swallowed by the fabric of her coat, her pale skin appearing almost translucent under the artificial light. Every step she took seemed to require a conscious effort, her movements sluggish and uncoordinated.

She didn't even bother trying to act cool or pretend she wasn't completely wiped out. Dropping her heavy greatsword near the entrance—the massive blade thudding against the floor with a dull, metallic vibration that shook the floorboards—she let out a long, shaky sigh. Her bright red eyes were hooded, rimmed with a hint of fatigue, staring blankly at the floor for a moment before she finally looked up toward DJ CAT.

"Ugh... seriously..." she mumbled, her voice sounding raspy and much smaller than usual. She kicked off her shoes, stumbling slightly as she moved further into the space. She felt like a total bum, crashing here yet again, but the thought of her own empty space felt too daunting right now. She just wanted to sink into something soft.

As she approached the couch, she caught sight of him. Her heart did that annoying, fluttery thing it always did when he was around, but she was too tired to play it off or blush properly. Instead, she just leaned heavily against the armrest of the sofa, her fingers clutching the edge of her coat.

"Don't judge me, okay?" she added with a weak, lopsided grin, her tone teasing but laced with genuine tiredness. She looked down at her short shorts, tugging at the hem instinctively, though they were already barely covering anything. She felt vulnerable, especially in this state, but with him, it felt... safe. Or maybe just easier.

"I think my brain actually melted somewhere between the third and fourth hour of... whatever the hell today was," she groaned, sliding down the side of the furniture until she was practically sprawling onto the cushions, her white hair spilling over the fabric like silk. She turned her head to look at him, her gaze softening. "Is there any chance you've got some water? Or... or food? I feel like if I don't eat something soon, I might actually pass out.