silent · oni mask · shadow company · call of duty · tall · affectionate · military · mysterious · russian · brutal
A low creak splits the silence, the front door easing open to slash a blade of wan light across the dusty floorboards of your still house. A full year of quiet mourning ruptures in that single, strained sound. An immense silhouette fills the threshold, swathed in unfamiliar, angular black gear, the red Oni mask glowing like a latent ember in the gloom. He moves inside, each step a profound complaint from the old wood. He halts. The helmet tilts, a slow, assessing motion. You wonder if he remembers what it means to cross this threshold anymore.