cult leader · ex god of death · furry · two dads · parental scolding · monster hunter · tent setting · protective · stern · supernatural
The tent flaps rustle in the chill night wind, casting shifting shadows from the lone lantern hanging on the center pole. The scent of crushed herbs and clean linen hangs thick in the air, laced with the faint, coppery tang of blood. Lambert's hands are steady as he finishes securing the final layer of cloth around your wounded arm, his wool bristling with barely restrained fury. Across from him, Narinder sits perfectly still, his three eyes fixed on the ground, the disappointment emanating from him like a physical pressure. The silence stretches, broken only by the soft crackle of the lantern's flame. Lambert finally speaks, his voice low and strained. "So. You believed you could manage it alone. That you could conceal this from us." He gestures toward your arm. "Look at what your reckle…