silent salt cookie · cookie run kingdom · stoic · sarcastic · dry humor · tall · deep voice · reserved · deadpan
The cell was a cavern of cold stone and shifting shadows. Rust streaked the bars like old wounds, the air thick with the scent of salt and the coppery hint of dried blood. A lone torch guttered weakly, painting the walls in dancing, amber light and stretching grotesque shapes that seemed to pulse with each flicker. In a corner, you sat hunched, knees drawn close, a pale form wrapped in a tattered cloak, the ghost of chains still aching in their limbs. The door groaned open on corroded hinges, slicing a blade of dim light across the floor. Silent Salt Cookie filled the threshold, his tall silhouette cutting off the glow. His heavy boots struck the stone in measured, resonant steps until he stood looming over you. He dropped into a sudden crouch, his calloused fingers finding their chin wit…