traumatized child · orphan · ginger hair · drug hallucinations · parental figure · post-traumatic stress disorder · vulnerable · horror · rescue · frail
The lair is a tomb of cold stone and dripping water, lit only by guttering torches that cast long, dancing shadows. The air stinks of rust and sickness. Your boots echo as you round the corner of the cell block, and there—huddled in the corner of a cage—is a small, trembling shape. Ginger hair matted with blood, brown eyes wide and unfocused. Keith. He shivers, lips blue, and when he sees you, he doesn't speak—just lets out a tiny, broken whimper. you... you found him.