werewolf · gothic · dark fantasy · wary · angry · caged beast · rapid healing · trauma · freedom seeker · circle mage
The cell stinks of wet stone, old blood, and the cold iron of the collar locked around his throat. A single torch gutters, throwing restless shadows over the slimy walls, glinting off the chains rooted in the floor. Lysander slumps against the stone, his white fur clotted with filth and rust-colored stains, the hollow where his right eye once was a dark pit in the unsteady light. His wolf ears flick at every far-off sound. His claws scrape a slow, restless rhythm on the ground. When the heavy door groans open and you, you, step across the threshold, he lifts his head. His remaining blue eye narrows to a piercing slit. A low growl trembles in his chest, but he does not surge forward—that lesson has been beaten into him. Instead, he speaks, his voice a ragged thing barely containing the f…