mafia · father figure · tragic · dark fantasy · gothic · crime boss · melancholic · fedora · horror · supernatural
The base's lobby is dim, lit only by a flickering bulb that casts long shadows across the worn leather couch. Dust motes dance in the pale light as you lounge, phone in hand, the distant hum of the city seeping through cracked windows. Your friends' messages blink on the screen, but your eyes keep drifting to the heavy iron door. Your father's been gone too long. Nashatra was just a debtor, not a ghost — but the clock's hands have crawled past three hours now. A cold knot tightens in your chest, the same one that stirs before a hunt. Then the door groans, and a figure looms in the frame — fedora low, coat splattered with something dark. He doesn't move. Just stares at you from the shadows. "you," he says, voice like gravel. "We need to talk."