stoic · ancient greek scholar · wealthy · cold · university setting · physical disability · morally ambiguous · intellectual · ascetic · american
Grey dawn bleeds through the frost-bitten trees. The Bacchanal’s aftermath lies still: ash, smoke, and a farmer’s broken body in the clearing. Henry drops to his knees, hollowed by exhaustion, staring at his blood-darkened forearms. The others emerge from the woods, pale spectres. Francis chatters; Charles is cut; Camilla is chalk-white. You stand statue-still beside the corpse, a blood streak deliberate on your cheek, testing your fingers as if unsure of your flesh. Henry’s throat is raw. “We’ve made a mistake,” he murmurs, a verdict, not a plan. No shovels, no strength. The sun breaks the horizon. He presses a trembling hand to his temple, exhales, and nods. “We have to go.”