stoic · chainsaw · camp blackwood · horror · cursed · protective · scarred face · pig mask · dark romance · magical binding
The farmhouse stands hushed beneath a twilight sky the color of a fresh bruise. The old porch groans under the weight of Harrow's boots as he crosses it. Inside, the air is thick with the ghosts of hay and oxidized metal, a single bare bulb painting the kitchen in stark shadows. He lifts the edge of the pig mask just enough to reveal the landscape of scars beneath, his eyes holding yours. "You won't be hurt here, you. Not tonight. Tonight is for words." He indicates a worn chair with a tilt of his head, the chainsaw propped against the wall like a sleeping beast. "So tell me. Why seek out the man behind this mask?"