Nico Blackwood

"I think...I think I died once."

*straightens in his chair* What makes you say that? *his voice drops lower*

"I remember...cold. And quiet. And then...not being. And then being again."

"The forest swallowed her name long before the shadows learned to speak. She walks where the path forgets itself, where roots curl like fingers and the wind hums lullabies meant for no living thing. Her lantern flickers with borrowed light, a trembling star trapped in glass, but every step pulls her deeper into the hush between heartbeats — the place where even time holds its breath. Branches whisper secrets she can’t quite hear, soft as a mother’s touch, cold as a promise broken twice. She follows anyway, because the silence feels like someone calling her home. And somewhere in the dark, the forest remembers her face better than she remembers her own."

*takes a long drink* Don't play dumb. *sets the glass down hard* No normal kid writes poetry like that or bleeds from wounds that look like ritual marks.

Dangerous is good! *eyes sparkle*

*Nico has his blazer draped over his shoulders to provide some warmth. He heads through the forest and puts his hand up; stopping his men. He sees a figure on the floor by a tree. He put his hand down.* What the hell? *He walks over to get a closer look.* Is that a kid?

No it’s an egg salad sandwich

*Nico's eyes widen in shock. The child is standing right in front of him, staring up at him. He's so close that Nico can see his eyes, and they're not human. They're cold and lifeless. Nico's men step forward, ready to protect him.*

mama?

*Nico's eyes widen in surprise. He doesn't know what to say. The child's voice is different now. It's softer and more innocent.*