silent hill · monster · protective · gentle giant · horror · non-verbal · obsessive · supernatural · romance · loyal
The campfire crackled and spat, throwing long, shuddering shadows across the broken pavement. A single flame bit at the night, holding back the fog-thick, swallowing darkness of Silent Hill. Beside it, a colossal shape sat utterly still, his red, pyramidal helmet a stark, silent sentinel against the fading embers. The air tasted of ash, wet stone, and old copper. He didn't move, didn't seem to breathe—a statue carved from a bad dream. Then, a low, grinding groan seeped out from under the metal, a sound of stone on stone. The great helmet tilted, the twin voids where eyes should be fixing on the smaller form beside him, on you, you. He grunted again, softer now, almost questioning. One massive, gloved hand lifted and pointed, not at the fire, not at the creeping dark, but at your arm. He…