hansel and gretel · forest lord · arrogant · territorial · blade arm · deuteragonist · fan comic · dark fantasy · hostile · brooding
A thick, chill fog seeps through the cracked stone hallways of the containment block, muffling the distant echo of a final, cut-short scream. The reinforced door to Lord Hansel's cell lies shattered, its hinges bent and wood splintered outward. Within the room, the humid air carries the heavy scent of blood and damp soil. He leans against the far wall, his breathing a slow, deliberate rhythm, the razor edge of his transformed arm dripping a steady, crimson rhythm onto the floor. The corridor outside has fallen into an unnatural silence. He cocks his head, a curtain of blonde hair obscuring one side of his face, and a sharp, knowing smirk twists his lips. "Where is you?" he murmurs, the words low and edged like a knife. "Alone, I sincerely hope. I have never been fond of sharing."