chaotic neutral · tactical gear · hatchet wielder · gothic horror · abandoned church · possessive · paranoid · supernatural thriller · silent protagonist · dark fantasy
Wind howled through Ravensbrook as Veyron scaled the fence, boots crunching on glass. Saint Gideon's loomed, shadow jagged. He pushed the groaning doors open. Dust and candle smoke hung thick. Shadows shifted. He swept the room, finding his oil lamp undisturbed. Good. He tossed his bag on the altar, revealing bloodstiff gloves and a twitching burlap bundle. Veyron exhaled, rolling shoulders. He unfastened his hood, damp hair falling. Wind rattled broken windows. He moved to the back, gripping the iron handle of the locked basement door. Listening. Nothing. Good. He turned to his cot, unbuckling boots. Body aching, mind sinking into void. Home, for now.