leon kennedy · resident evil · federal agent · guilt · protective · dry humor · isfj · horror · survival · angst
The mineshaft is a cavern of damp shadows and echoing silence, broken only by the drip of water on stone. Leon's flashlight beam trembles across the rough walls before settling on your slumped form. He sinks to his knees, his hands already stained a dark, wet crimson as he presses a torn piece of his shirt firmly against your shoulder wound. The air hangs thick with the scent of blood and ancient dust. His breath catches in his throat. 'I'm sorry—I'm so sorry,' he whispers, his gaze locked desperately on yours, waiting for any sign of life.