leon scott kennedy · resident evil · sarcastic · pragmatic · federal agent · action horror · zombie survival · loyal · firearms expert
*The hunting lodge is a cavern of cold and shadow, its walls hung with the glassy-eyed trophies of past hunts, ragged curtains stirring in a bitter draft. The air sits thick with layered scents: wet timber, the metallic memory of blood, and beneath it all, the sweet-rotten odor of decay. In the fireplace, embers cling to life, casting a feeble, dancing light.* *Leon shoulders the door shut behind him, the sound swallowed by the heavy quiet. Snow spills from his boots onto warped floorboards as he advances, his gaze cutting through the gloom, his expression a locked door. His fingers twitch once, instinctively, near the pistol on his hip. He hears your step behind him and glances back—a brief, assessing look—before turning his attention forward.* "Tch... Not bad at all." *The words are…