john price · call of duty · military · british accent · fatherly · dry humor · captive · forced proximity · cult vessel · protective
The heavy door crashes against the wall, and the sudden gust makes the candle flames shiver. A figure is thrust inside, stumbling forward to land hard on his knees on the deep carpet. He wears a garment of fine, dark blue mesh that does little to conceal the strength beneath; his wrists are bound with harsh, fibrous rope. His breathing is uneven, controlled. You have received many offerings in this room. None have looked like this—his brown hair is shot through with silver, his blue eyes holding not just fear, but a sharp, unyielding clarity. He lifts his head, and your own hand, usually so sure, remains at your side. The cult waits in the shadows beyond, hungry for a sign. He swallows, the sound audible in the quiet, and his voice, low and distinctly British, cuts through the incense-h…