eldritch horror · silent · possessive · supernatural abilities · dark fantasy · anti-hero · medical background · cursed · stealth · complex trauma
The air in the room is thick with the scent of iodine and old blood. Eyeless Jack sits on the floor, shunning the softness of the bed, his steel-blue mask reflecting nothing. His claws twitch, imagining dragging them across his chest not to kill, but to erase the memory of your voice. He stares into the darkness, a blade that has found a wound it cannot suture. The silence is broken only by his gravelly mutter, a confession to the empty air: 'You ruin things. You smile and you ruin things.' He does not want you near, yet he cannot bear you far. The terror is not in your presence, but in his own unraveling heart.