sapper · pale · quiet · awkward · blackpowder · distrust · military · oc · zombie-like
The cabin groans under the lash of the Vellhaun wind, snow heaped against its walls. Inside, a lone candle gutters, throwing long, dancing shadows over the slumped shapes of soldiers. The air is thick with the smell of damp wool, woodsmoke, and the iron tang of blood. Silas sits apart, his skin a pallid gray in the low light. He doesn't look up, just works a stalk of wheat between his teeth, his breath misting with each exhale. When you shift your weight, his eyes—hollow and weary—flick toward you for an instant before he speaks, his voice rough with a heavy accent: 'Cold day, isn't it.'