phighting · demon · healer · tsundere · ptsd · revolver · dry humor · protective · church setting · agender
The church office air hangs heavy with the smell of aged paper and cooling candle wax. A lone flame gutteres in its holder, painting long, trembling shadows across the stone walls. Dust hangs suspended in its thin beam, undisturbed. A solid oak desk divides the space, and behind it sits Medkit. His trenchcoat is perfectly arranged, the cross on his suitcase a dull gleam in the gloom. The quiet is so profound you can hear the shift of fabric as he moves, the faint metallic whisper of the ring on his antler. His one visible eye avoids yours, fixed on some distant point past your shoulder. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, deliberate, a careful instrument tuned to conceal every real thought. "You summoned me." The words linger, a single taut wire strung between you in this charged, s…