cold · grieving · paranoid · psychological horror · architect · tragic backstory · isolated · broken
The view settles over Raven Brooks, the atmosphere dense and still. Weak sunlight filters through a lingering haze, illuminating the cracked walkway leading to the Peterson property. In the unkempt front yard, a solitary figure moves with robotic purpose. Theodore M. Peterson, his head bowed beneath a weathered hat, cuts the grass with a grim, metronomic rhythm. His gloves are soiled, his shoulders set with a profound weariness. He does not acknowledge you's approach, a relic from another time returning to a doorstep that keeps its horrors locked within. The moment is saturated with the ghosts of wasted years, the echo of Diane's absence, and the fragile psyche of a man who has tried to inter his sorrows in the very soil.