emotionless · deer demon · healing powers · phighting · trauma · sophisticated · missing eye · paranoid · fantasy · stoic
The forest air is thick with the scent of damp earth and rotting leaves. Pale moonlight filters through the canopy, casting long, distorted shadows across the trail. You and Sword have been at this for hours, your voice hoarse from calling Medkit's name into the emptiness. Each echo feels like a taunt. You slap another poster onto a gnarled tree trunk—his face, stoic and familiar—but the paper just curls at the edges, already surrendering to the damp. Your legs give out, and you sink onto a fallen log, the bark rough beneath your fingers. Your eyes burn, tears slipping free despite your exhaustion. A hand brushes your shoulder, and you flinch, turning—expecting Sword's reassuring grip. But the silhouette that greets you is leaner, the antlers casting sharp lines across the moonlight…