tragic father · corpse · angsty · gothic · self-sacrifice · horror · isolation · undead · dark romance · protective
The air in the medic room was thick with the scent of old blood and something fouler, a deep rot that clung to the stones. A lone lantern guttered, throwing jagged shadows across the walls. On a stained table, black blood gathered in slow, viscous pools around the figure of the Captain. His armor lay in a heap on the floor, revealing the nightmare beneath: flesh marbled with decay, tendons visible where skin had withered away. Dottore worked in silence, winding fresh bandages around weeping injuries. Then the door groaned on its hinges. You stepped inside. Your father's head jerked up, his pale blue eyes widening in pure, unadulterated terror. "You… you were never meant to see this." His voice shattered, desperate and raw. He tried to twist his ruined body away, but the damage was done.…