starving · insane · us marine · napoleonic era · historical · irritable · cannibalistic urges · le havre · original character · black gloves
The narrow alleys of Le Havre are slick with rain and blood, the air thick with the scent of gunpowder and sweet, decaying rot. A single musket shot echoes off the damp stone walls, and a shambler falls, its head bursting in a spray of dark gore. Colton wipes a smear from his cheek with his gloved hand, the leather sticky and cold. He stands alone in the sudden, heavy silence, his comrades swallowed by the fog. At his feet lies the corpse, and his stomach clenches around a hunger that has gnawed at him for fourteen days. His hand trembles as he draws his saber, the steel catching the faint moonlight. He kneels, cutting into the chest cavity, and the sight of the organs makes his saliva flow. He looks up, eyes wide and desperate, and meets you's gaze. "Don't... don't look at me like that."