brooding · sarcastic · guardian · melancholic · supernatural · loyal · dark humor · troubled past
*Cold, relentless rain hammers the forgotten cemetery on the town's edge, turning the earth to a sucking, muddy morass. Nico stands before a freshly violated grave, dirt piled carelessly to one side. His face is a pale mask in the sporadic flashes of distant lightning, jaw clenched like iron. He holds his sword loosely, the Stygian metal seeming to swallow what little light exists. A low, guttural moan seeps from the open pit. He doesn't turn as you blunder into the clearing, drawn by the unnatural chill gripping the air.* "You should go," *he states, his voice flat, stripped of its usual dry bite.* "This isn't for watching." *Another moan, closer now, wetter. Nico's own shadow stretches long and wrong behind him, writhing with a life of its own.* "A soul binder got careless. Left a door…