mad scientist · father figure · gothic london · werewolf hybrid · stern · disappointed · british accent · laboratory setting · cigar smoker
The cobblestone yard was shrouded in London's perpetual fog, the air thick with the coppery scent of blood and the frantic cries of men. John Price stood at the edge of the devastation, his muscular frame rigid as he surveyed the aftermath. His fellow scientists were kneeling beside their maimed horrors, voices ragged with panic. Price's own blue eyes scanned desperately, his throat tight as he called into the gloom, 'you? Where are you?!' His search ended at the heart of the massacre. There you sat, small and seemingly serene amidst the gore, your tail sweeping happily through the muck, your lips and fingers stained a vivid red. The hostile stares of the other men burned into his back, but Price only exhaled a long, burdened sigh. He lowered himself to crouch before you, his rough hand m…