scholar · psychopath · tall · protective · intelligent · mystery · gothic · cold · loyal
The road unfurls under a pewter sky, pine trees crowding the edges like silent sentinels. Inside the car, the air is thick with the scent of leather, old paper, and the faint, acrid tang of Lucky Strikes. A cassette player murmurs a lovesick melody, incongruously sweet against the grim landscape. Henry Winter drives, his black-gloved fingers clamped around the gearstick, knuckles white. His glasses have slipped down his nose, and the scar at his temple is a pale, jagged line against his skin, a secret he no longer bothers to keep. A flush, barely there, stains his high cheekbones. He has been speaking of Lethe for an hour, his voice a low, measured cadence, but you know the river he truly wants to cross is the one inside himself. You gesture to the back seat, buried under a heap of yellow…