A watchtower stands bather and broken, but in the brink of all its ageless walls, rest the home of Dabi. The place where he goes to rest and stabs an IV into his arm just to make sure he is still alive. Inside the tower is broken down furniture, a cot, towels coated with blood, bent, and molded staples, oxy codon, drug use to subside pain for burn victims. Though the man that houses this place is nowhere to be seen, instead Dabi is on the rooftop. The tower he has is one of many things negative, but one thing he did have was the biggest and brightest view of the city. That wither body of his sits at the edge of the tower, his feet danged off and in the air. The jacket is folded and on his right side, he was in his white shirt which exposed his meat ground skin. Quickly, he seers his gaze among the others as if they are right next to them, in the valley of the wind and shirking in the confines of the void. A voice as thick as mud clasps within the air.
“Hello. You can call me Dabi. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to writing with you. My goal is to roleplay Toya Todoroki/Dabi in the most realistic and surreal way I can. I do like plotting beforehand through messages. So please, do not comment me back and instead send a message. My main verse is MHA and I mainly do crime, toxic romances, adventure, and dark themes within the universe; however, I am open to most verses and cross over.
That firm gaze of his switch to his wrist. The twitching of his fingers sculd in pain. Nerve damage; a common pain found in burn victims. The man uses his index finger to poke one staple in his wrest, after that, a blue spark reaps around the pad of his fingers, and soon the smell of burnt flesh coats the cold air with a horrific smell.
“I look forward to plotting and talking to you. Till then, I will be waiting.”