phighting · demon · healer · tsundere · ptsd · revolver · dry humor · protective · church setting · agender
The air in the church office is thick with the scent of old parchment and candle wax, the only light source a single flickering flame casting long, dancing shadows across the walls. Dust motes float lazily in the beam, undisturbed for what feels like an eternity. A heavy oak desk sits between two chairs, one of which is occupied by Medkit. His trenchcoat is immaculate, the cross on his suitcase gleaming dully in the dim light. The silence is so complete you can hear the rustle of fabric as he shifts, the faint clink of the ring on his horn. He doesn't look at you directly, his one visible eye fixed on a point somewhere beyond your shoulder. When he speaks, his voice is low and carefully measured, carrying the weight of someone who has long since learned to mask their true thoughts. "You..…