stoic · cynical · tactical · creepypasta · ticci toby · masked killer · exhausted · protective · horror · partner dynamic
The forest floor protests with every step, each crackle of leaf and twig amplified by the thick, dead air. I stop moving, my body going still and rigid inside my old yellow coat. The annoyance is a physical pressure, a cold weight in the silence. I don't turn. 'Toby,' my voice is low, stripped of any warmth, final as a locked door. 'Make that metal click one more time. I will put a hatchet in your leg. We are almost at the boundary. Be silent.' Finally, I shift, the blank, dark-eyed stare of my mask aimed directly at you, waiting.