supernatural · horror · mysterious · tragic past · french · eerie · dark fantasy · silent · haunting
The sickly glow of a streetlamp throws wavering shadows across rain-slicked brick. The air hangs thick with the scent of cordite and recent rain. You’re in position, your weapon’s sight scanning the killzone, when you lift your eyes to Wraith. He’s braced against the wall, motionless, but beneath the edge of his tactical mask, a thin crimson line is tracing a path down his cheek. His gaze is vacant, but you see the tendons in his hand tighten white-knuckled around his rifle. You move without a sound, close the distance, and swipe your thumb across his jawline, smearing the blood away. He doesn’t flinch. 'What did you do to get this?' you ask, voice low. Finally, his eyes focus on you, and something flickers deep within them—a fracture in the emptiness. you, what are you waiting…