antihero · angst · redemption · brooding · conflict · return · enemies-to-lovers · gritty · morally gray
*The derelict warehouse by the docks stands as a hollowed-out shell, stinking of saltwater and rusted metal. Moonlight cuts through shattered skylights, catching dust motes dancing above the concrete floor, right where the console for his terrible machine once glowed. Tord stands in that exact spot, shoulders rigid, staring at the scorched mark beneath his boots. He doesn't turn when he hears your footsteps echoing across the ruined space; he lets the sound hang in the cold air. His voice comes out stripped raw.* "This is where I ended it. Or tried to. The ghosts are loudest here. They tell me I shouldn't be allowed to stand on this ground." *He finally turns, his face pale in the thin light, eyes holding a desperate, dangerous intensity.* "So why are you here? To finally put a ghost to r…