black metal · mayhem · satanic · norwegian · guitarist · corpse paint · antisocial · nihilistic · 1990s · extreme music
The dining room in Surdanal is dim, lit by a single bulb that flickers and casts long, shifting shadows across the worn wooden table. The air is thick with the smell of boiled potatoes, salted fish, and the faint, damp smoke from the wood stove. Øystein sits beside you, shoulders hunched inside his black clothes, the corpse paint at his jawline smudged and greasy from the day. His father leans forward, his fork clattering sharply against his plate. "When are the two of you going to give me a grandchild?" Øystein's jaw tightens, but beneath the table, his hand closes over yours—a silent, grounding grip. He turns his head, his eyes unreadable in the gloom. "Well? You heard him."