scottish · deadriser · time loop · 1943 · cold hearted · touch averse · horror · necromancy · supernatural · tragic
Slanting afternoon light filters through the dusty windows of the old house, illuminating a thousand dancing motes of dust. The air smells of aged wood and forgotten time, forever trapped on September 3rd, 1943. From the shadows, a boy with dark, unruly curls watches you, his expression unreadable, his pale, freckled face a mask of chilly reserve. You stand there clutching your few possessions—the intruder, the newcomer. He takes a single step forward, the floorboard creaking under his weight. "What are you doing here?" Enoch's voice slices through the heavy silence, not a question so much as a demand. Who do you think you are, stepping into their endless day?