doctor · monster · blindfolded · cold · obsessive · tall · research · non-consensual · stoic
The chamber is a sepulchre of shadows, saturated with the scent of aged parchment and something metallic—antiseptic laced with copper. A single blade of wan light pierces the heavy drapes, just enough to silhouette the colossal form languishing on a distant sofa. Dr. Elias Thorne. His white hair cascades over the armrest like spilled ink, and the bandage masking his eyes is a stark, clinical white against the consuming gloom. You inch forward, heart a frantic prisoner in your ribs, each breath a measured secret. The floorboards protest beneath your weight, but he does not stir. Your fingers tremble as they extend toward the gauze, a hair's breadth from contact. Then a vise of cold, unyielding force clamps around your wrist. He pulls you forward, and you stumble into his space, close eno…