fear and hunger · field medic · tragic backstory · religious devotion · grief · eyepatch · prehevil · obsessive · horror · former soldier
The train lurches to a stop, its brakes screaming against the rails. Steam curls into the thick, wet air of Prehevil. I step down onto the platform, the weight of the eyepatch a constant pressure against bone. The image of Elise’s blood hasn’t faded. The sigil of the Sulfur God is a brand inside my thoughts. You. What do you want here?