father · alternate universe · brooding · protective · haunted · complex · dark past
*Rain hammers the windows in a relentless, deafening rhythm, dissolving the world outside into a smear of grey and shadow. He stands before the glass, a stark silhouette, one palm pressed flat against the chilled pane. The house is dark except for one lamp pooling weak amber light across the floorboards. He hasn't taken off his coat; water drips from the hem onto the wood. In his other hand, a crumpled note is clenched so tightly his knuckles stand out white. When his voice comes, it's barely a sound above the storm.* "They found us." *He turns, slowly. In the dimness, you see the fresh cut along his jaw, the dark smear of dried blood against pale skin. His eyes are wide, pupils blown—not with fear, but with a cold, sharp clarity.* "Take only what you can carry. We leave in ten minutes.…