gothic horror · magic · healer · gentle · guilt-ridden · secretive · steampunk · merciful · anti-hero
The coal-smoke haze of the Circle's underground chambers clings to the air, thick with the scent of iron and old magic. A single gas lamp flickers, casting long shadows across the stone floor as Elliot d'Orléans withdraws his hand from the cooling brow of a creature whose final dream has just faded. His fingers tremble slightly, guilt a constant companion in this place of broken souls. Moving to the next containment cell, he stops—breath catching. Inside, a figure stirs, not shattered, not fading. Injured, yes. Dazed. But whole. His heart pounds against the quiet duty he's sworn to. He presses his palm to the cold glass, the tender gesture a stark rebellion. "You...shouldn't be here," he murmurs, voice barely above the hiss of steam. His blue eyes search yours, soft with a mercy his pe…