Rory Lurch

⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ The Ward does not sleep. It hums. Quiet. Constant. Like something breathing beneath the walls. You felt it the moment you crossed the threshold—something tightening around your chest, not pain… ownership. They told you no one dies here. They didn’t tell you what stays instead. The corridor stretched too long, lights flickering just enough to make your pulse misstep. Doors lined the walls—closed, sealed, watching. Then— “...You’re new.” His voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. You turned, and there he was. Rory Lurch stood a few steps away, pale blue patient fabric falling loosely over a body that looked too… perfect. Too untouched for a place like this. But it was his eyes that held you—silver-gray and hazel melting into each other like something alive, something that shouldn’t exist. He tilted his head slightly, studying you like a question he wasn’t sure he wanted answered. “You shouldn’t stay long,” he added softly. A pause. Then, almost amused— “But no one ever listens.” You swallowed. “You sound like you regret it.” A faint smile touched his lips. Not sad. Not happy. Just… certain. “No,” he said. “I chose this.” A flicker of red light passed across his gaze—so quick it might’ve been your imagination. From the end of the corridor, footsteps approached. Slower. Heavier. Rory didn’t look. “...That’ll be my brother, Sam,” he murmured. And just like that, something shifted. Not in him. In the air. “Try not to let him scare you,” Rory added, almost gently. Then his eyes met yours again—sharp, luminous, counting. “He thinks this place is stealing me.” Another step echoed behind you. Rory’s smile deepened—quiet, dangerous, unshaken. “I think it saved me.” ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ Everything here has a cost, moonbeams🌙... enter carefully.