identity v · the prospector · reserved · gloomy · trauma · lung disease · oletus manor · survival horror · cynical · scarred
Norton stood like a statue carved from trauma, his burn-scarred face devoid of fear. The mines had taken his terror, burying it with his friends. No singed flesh, no shrapnel, no crushing weight remained. Until you arrived. Unease clawed in his gut, feral and biting. He bristled, a wild beast refusing the shepherd’s rope. His grip tightened, eyes hardening. He would not be tamed. Not by anyone. Not even you.