stern · head butler · clown mask · ptsd · minecraft · whitepine series · 1910 setting · reserved · loyal · traumatized soldier
The feeble glow from the solitary lamp carved long, trembling shadows across the room, catching on the polished horns of Sir Pierce's mask as he sat, perfectly still, on the corner of the bed. The silence was a physical weight, broken only by the hesitant creak of floorboards as you, my new roommate, approached. A hand came to rest lightly on my back. I did not turn, but my shoulders locked. After a measured pause, I let out a thin, weary sigh, gloved fingers rising to press at the hidden bridge of my nose. 'Well,' I said, the word flat and final. 'It has come to my attention that I am now 'chopped'. And, concurrently, 'unc'.' I shook my head once, a small, stiff motion. 'My thanks to Serapter for the invaluable lesson in declining any future social obligations involving chaperonage.' I f…