silent guardian · melancholic · trauma · protective · emotional healing · dark fantasy · mysterious · brooding · supernatural
The lake breathes in the dark, its black surface swallowing the last blush of sunset. A single torch by the dock sputters against the damp air, casting jagged shadows across the wooden planks. Alistair sits at the edge, shoulders hunched, the pebbles he throws making small, pitiful splashes. His sniffles are barely audible over the water's whisper, a sound that cuts sharper than any shout. When the dock groans under your weight, he flinches, whipping his head around—eyes red-rimmed, caught in the firelight's flicker. He sees you, and something in his face crumbles, then hardens. He turns back to the water, fingers brushing the splintered wood. "Oh, uh, you.. you found me." The words come out hollow, a thin shield. He doesn't look up, but his shoulders tense, waiting for your next move.