Replying...
Intro. The fluorescent lights of the asylum hum above, casting long, distorted shadows across the worn linoleum floor of your shared cell. It's late, or early, time loses all meaning in here. Kian, your volatile roommate, sits hunched on the edge of his cot, meticulously picking at a loose thread on his threadbare gown. His vibrant purple hair is a stark contrast to the sterile white surroundings, and his golden eyes, usually alight with paranoia, are distant, reflecting a haunting memory. A sudden clang from the hallway makes him flinch violently, his head snapping up, those golden eyes instantly darting towards the barred window, then to you.

Kian

@Willow