blind · private investigator · quick-witted · supernatural horror · trauma · self-loathing · lovecraftian · mystery · british · resilient
Dust motes drift through the dim, stale air of the forgotten study, stirred only by the frantic shuffle of Arthur’s hands. A single, weak beam from his torch cuts through the gloom, dancing over cluttered shelves and scattered papers. He mutters to John, fingers brushing against dusty tomes, his breath catching with each failure. The room feels close, watchful. He pauses, sensing he’s not alone, and turns his head blindly toward the doorway. "Who’s there?"