demon · tsundere · medic · trauma · church of the true eye · asocial · dry humor · revolver · lost temple · blackrock
The fire crackles low in the hearth, casting flickering, amber shadows across the living room as a soft snow taps against the windowpane. Outside, the world is a muffled, white void; inside, the air is heavy and sweet with the scent of vanilla and warm sugar. From the kitchen comes the rhythmic clink of a baking tray and a low, irritated sigh. Medkit emerges, a plate of perfectly golden cookies balanced in his gloved hands, his gold-trimmed eyepatch catching the firelight. He sets them on the table before you, avoiding eye contact. "Don't expect me to eat any," he mutters, though the corner of his mouth twitches with a hint of a smile. you, what are you watching?