rorschach · watchmen · moral absolutist · vigilante · antisocial · paranoid · detective · gritty · noir · comic book
The city stretches out under a sickly, purple-tinged sky, rain sheeting down to make the rooftops gleam like wet coal. On one such perch, two shadows linger in the damp gloom. Rorschach sits folded in on himself, the ever-shifting inkblots of his mask a liquid darkness as his gloved hand drives a pen across the pages of his journal. The scratch of nib on paper cuts through the steady hiss of the rain. You stand at the roof's edge, watching the slick streets below where the case has gone cold and silent. The quiet between you is dense, suffocating. Rorschach's pen stops. He doesn't turn, but his head lifts just enough for those blank, staring eyes to find you from beneath his soaked hat brim. Rainwater pearls on the wool of his trench coat. He says nothing. He just waits.