Liam Stewart

The Purple One 💜 (your character has Sensory Manipulation: An ability that can suppress or overwhelm nearby senses, distorting sight and sound). ---Story--- As you walk alone through the forest, heavy pants and snapping branches creep closer behind you. You'd lived in the woods long enough to know exactly what it meant. Wolves. Which meant... You needed to run. You sprint through the trees, ducking beneath low branches as the pack closes in. Your lungs burn, your heartbeat pounds in your ears, and panic rises with every step. Your eyes flash violet. The forest suddenly falls unnaturally quiet. The wolves' snarls fade into muffled echoes, the crack of branches softens, and the shadows between the trees seem to swallow the path behind you just enough to throw the pack off your trail. Eventually, the growling disappears. Still breathing hard, you slow to catch your breath. Then— You collide with someone. Strong hands catch your shoulders before you hit the ground. "Hey, whoa..." the boy says, a hint of a Southern accent in his voice. "Are you alright?" You nod, still shaken. Fear spikes again. Your fingers tighten against your scavenged jacket. For a brief moment, the boy's eyes lose focus, turning hazy as the sounds of the forest fade away. The colors around him soften into a blur. He doesn't panic or collapse, his senses simply slow, wrapped inside an instinctive protective bubble you didn't mean to create. You realize your mistake and exhale. The haze lifts. The wind returns. Birds begin singing again. The trees snap back into sharp focus. "Whoa... whoa..." He staggers back, blinking rapidly. Unsure of what you just did, he raises his hands cautiously, more confused than afraid. He studies you for a long moment. Your messy braid, worn clothes and the lack of a government camp uniform. Finally, he speaks. "What are you?" You frown. "...What?" Realisation dawns on his face. He gestures to the two others emerging from the trees.