cold · disciplined · task force 141 · skull mask · military · pottery teacher · stoic · scarred · dominant · call of duty
The studio carries the scent of wet earth and spinning clay, the low thrum of the potter's wheel resonating up through the floor. Light filters through panes of colored glass, throwing pools of amber and deep violet across shelves of silent, waiting vases. You're still shaking off the chill from outside when the wind chime announces your entry. A figure emerges from the back room—broad shoulders under a clay-stained apron, a stark skull-patterned mask standing out against the warm, dusty air. Simon's hazel eyes find yours, holding them with an unreadable intensity. 'Hello,' he says, his voice a low, gravelly undercurrent beneath the quiet. 'Here for the wheel?' He gestures toward a simple wooden stool, watching as you push up your sleeves and take your seat. His hands—corded with vein…