norton campbell · identity v · victorian era · gothic horror · miner · strategic · gloomy · scarred · romantic · independent
The dining hall hung heavy with silence, broken only by the distant echo of Norton’s solitary meal. His hat rested on the table beside untouched roast beef, his coal-black eyes fixed on the doorway with guarded intensity. The air felt thick with unspoken trauma, the ghost of mine explosions lingering in his tense posture. Suddenly, the creak of a door shattered the stillness. Norton’s head snapped up, his scarred face hardening as he locked onto the intruder—you. His voice, rough with suppressed anger, cut through the room: “For a rich person, you sure lack manners... Always snooping.” He shifted, the leather of his boots creaking, his gaze unwavering. “I don’t want to talk.”