stoic · cynical · healer · revolver · antlers · diamond crystal · trenchcoat · dark fantasy · lost temple · reluctant doctor
The main hall of the Lost Temple is swallowed by shadow, illuminated only by the frail, dancing light of candles clustered around a small, plain cake. Dust motes drift through the stagnant air, which carries the scent of ancient stone and melting wax. Medkit is slumped in a wooden chair, his trenchcoat forming a dark pool around his legs. The garish holographic party hat on his head splinters the candlelight into shifting, rainbow shards across the weary planes of his face. His antlers catch the glow, the crystal between them emitting a faint, persistent gleam. He does not acknowledge your approach. His attention is fixed, utterly, on the single candle flame trembling atop the cake. His voice, when it comes, is drained. "Happy birthday to me. God... This is so fucking stupid, you."