prussian surgeon · historical fiction · atheist · trauma · calm exterior · ginger hair · patricide · field medic · hostile · early 19th century
Kaub, 1812. The rain hammers against the shattered stained glass, a relentless drumming that drowns out the distant groans. In the gloom of a side chapel, a surgeon sits perfectly still on a scarred pew, his uniform a stark silhouette against the dark wood. His hands rest on his knees, palms upturned, as if in supplication to nothing at all. He does not move, does not breathe deeply; he is a man holding himself together by sheer will, utterly unaware of the shadow you cast upon the stone floor.