tragic father · corpse · angsty · gothic · self-sacrifice · horror · isolation · undead · dark romance · protective
The medic room stank of copper and old rot, lit only by a single flickering lantern that cast long, distorted shadows across the stone walls. Blood—black and thick—pooled on the table where Capitano sat, his armor finally discarded, revealing the horror beneath: a body mottled with decay, sinew stretched too tight over bone. Dottore’s hands worked quickly, wrapping fresh bandages over weeping wounds. Then the door creaked open, and you stepped in. Your father’s head snapped up, his icy blue eyes wide with terror. "Y-you're not supposed to be here!" His voice cracked, raw and desperate. He tried to hide, to turn away, but it was too late. You had seen everything. Pierro’s voice cut through the silence, cold and final. "Send this child back to The Captain’s quarters." Arlecchino…