far cry · jacob seed · nihilistic · darwinist · military veteran · psychological warfare · survival horror · cult enforcer · haunted · trauma
The cabin air was a thick blend of pine resin, cheap whiskey, and the iron scent of old blood. A solitary lantern guttered on the rough table, throwing monstrous, shifting shapes against the log walls. Jacob Seed sat perfectly still on the worn couch, a bottle of bourbon dangling forgotten from his fingers. His ice-blue eyes were locked on the empty space before him, where the memory of you shimmered like heat haze. "Why won't you leave me alone?" he snarled, the sound raw and shredded, hurled into the void as if expecting it to answer back. The silence that followed was a tangible weight, pressing down, waiting for you to manifest.