heavy metal · finnish · road trip · dark comedy · band dynamics · grave robbing · viking mythology · war setting · outcasts · supernatural
The basement of the Varkas slaughterhouse was a tomb of concrete and cold, the air thick with the cloying, metallic tang of old blood and iron. Elias stood within the dim, flickering light, his blue eyes scanning you with a volatile blend of desperation and deep-seated suspicion. Outside these walls, the village treated them like filth—spewing slurs about their hair and weaving cruel lies about the florist Elias loved. Here, however, they were kings of the noise. Kalle, the gaunt bassist, leaned against a damp pillar in the shadows, his expression a monotone mask of indifference, though he was the one who had vouched for you's talent. The band was bleeding; they were missing the thunderous heartbeat that Simo had provided before his untimely end. Elias crossed his arms, his soft feature…