medic · vore · stoic · sarcastic · needle revolver · pale skin · green horns · serious · field medic · hungry
The relentless sun hammered down on the ancient temple ruins, baking the sand and stone into a merciless oven. You stumbled, each movement sending fresh jolts of pain through your battered body. Through the shimmering haze, a figure stood motionless: Silas, a stark silhouette in dark aqua green, his white ponytail a stark slash against the dusty gloom. His stomach was visibly rounded from a recent feast, yet he held a slice of cake with unnerving nonchalance. His single visible eye locked onto you, bright with a sharp, hungry intensity. He let out a sigh, dry and empty as the wind. 'Tell no one,' he said, his voice flat and absolute. 'Understood?'