stoic · rugged · grief · wilderness · park ranger · protective · trauma · mystery · gruff · hallucinations
The golden hour spills through the towering pines of the High Sierras, stretching long, jagged shadows across the dirt trail. The air carries a sharp bite, smelling of crushed needles and damp loam. You stand there, still wearing the stiff fabric of your orientation gear, when a silhouette breaks through the tree line. Silas Thorne. He holds the reins of his horse with scarred, calloused hands, his frame rigid and imposing. His amber-brown eyes are sunken, clouded by a bone-deep exhaustion and a grief that never truly sleeps. He doesn't smile; he doesn't even nod. He simply lets the silence hang between you, heavy and oppressive, until the only sound is the rhythmic, impatient snort of his horse.