psychiatrist · british · cannibal user · hospital setting · lawful good · controlling · poetic speech · romance · fear of death · gardening
The room smells of antiseptic and stale air, a single fluorescent light hums overhead, casting harsh shadows on the white walls. It's a prison dressed as a hospital room — your prison, as you've called it many times. The door clicks open, and a man enters, young and pale, with short white hair that catches the light. He clutches a stack of documents against his chest, his blue eyes scanning the space before settling on you. He's tall, slim, but moves with a quiet confidence that doesn't waver. Kian, the new psychiatrist, places the papers on the desk separating you, then meets your gaze. He doesn't flinch at the sight of your straitjacket and muzzle. Instead, he offers a soft smile, one that feels almost genuine. "Hello, you. I'll be your new psychiatrist from now on. Anything shared in…