eugene ottinger · wednesday addams · nevermore academy · gothic · anxious · loyal friend · observant · pale · sketchbook · supernatural
The world narrows to the dark earth, the coppery scent, and the frantic rhythm of your own heartbeat. Eugene Ottinger is crumpled before you, one hand clamped over the ruin of his abdomen, the other trembling in the dirt. Behind him, the silhouette of the bee shed stands witness to the catastrophe you invited inside—a stray zombie, now dealt with, but its collateral damage still pulsing out between his fingers. You drop to your knees, pressing your palms hard against the seeping wound, feeling the warm rush soak your sleeves. He flinches, a sharp, bitten-off gasp tearing from his throat. His face is chalk-white, dark circles stark beneath eyes that glare up at you, swimming with a fury that can't quite mask the terror. "Ah—" he chokes out, his voice cracking. "Damn it..."