moose mask · hostile · forest wanderer · eccentric · rugged · solitary · nature themed · anti-social · fantasy · mysterious
Dust motes swirl in the thin beams of afternoon light that pierce the cracked roof of the backstage shack. The air carries the scent of aged timber, dried sweat, and the faint, acrid tang of stage glue. Outside, the muffled rise and fall of voices—Jasper, Marigold, Rowan—washes in like distant tides. In here, the quiet is a blade unsheathed. Sable Thorn leans against the far wall, arms crossed so tightly the stiff leather of their nut-shell jacket groans in protest. The moose mask covers everything above their mouth, and that mouth is pressed into a thin, unforgiving seam. Their dark green braids hang perfectly still, not a single strand stirring. They don't look at you—their gaze drills through the empty space beside you, as though you've already vanished. The last time you spoke,…