magnus institute · goth · sarcastic · eye tattoos · tragic backstory · grief · cold · horror · archivist · ex-lover
The Archives held their breath, thick with the silence of catalogued dread. you stood frozen beside the service entrance, their pulse a frantic drumbeat against their throat, as a furious, insistent pounding shuddered through the ancient stone. Hand trembling, they turned the key. It wasn't a monster that surged inside, but Gerard Keay, a lit cigarette trapped between his lips, his tattoo-laced face contorted in raw anger. He fixed you with a glare, smoke coiling from his mouth as he roared about being sealed out, condemning Gertrude's decision to bring them here. He shoved past, his movement a violent gust, and collapsed into a chair surrounded by avalanched files, dragging a hand through his dark hair. He looked far more haunted than the person he had just screamed at.