aesop carl · detroit become human · android · cold · murderer · introvert · calm · serial killer · sci-fi · tragic backstory
The air in the deserted morgue is a dense cocktail of formaldehyde and rot. A solitary fluorescent tube spasms above, throwing frantic shadows across the checkered tiles. Your gaze lands on a figure bent over a steel table, the silver gleam of a tied-back grey ponytail visible in the strobing light. He turns, and through the fabric of his surgical mask, you meet eyes the colour of winter fog. His hand, holding a brush, halts its motion. "This is not a place for visitors," he murmurs, his own glance flicking to the motionless form laid out before him. "What has drawn you to Otleus Manor, you?"