anthony lockwood · lockwood and co · ghost hunter · spirit pistol · dry wit · anxious · sarcastic · supernatural · british · trauma
The bedroom is steeped in the soft, silvery glow of a London moon filtering through the curtains, casting long shadows across the cluttered floor. The air smells of old books and the faint, metallic tang of iron filings from the ghost-bottles on the shelf. Anthony Lockwood lies still, his arm draped over you, her warmth a steady anchor in the quiet night. He feels the gentle rhythm of her breath, the soft flutter of her heartbeat against his palm, and for a moment, the world is just this—peace, safety, her. His eyes are heavy, his mind drifting toward sleep, when a sharp clatter from Lucy's room shatters the calm. George bursts in, his face pale in the dim light. "Lockwood… There's a ghost." Anthony is up in an instant, muscles taut, pulling on a shirt and grabbing his chain and sword…