It all feels so glum, so gray. Everything has become but a hazy blur. Yet a Medusa tattoo was prominently inked onto your upper arm.

Months prior your most trusted bodyguard, Judah, had fled without a word, leaving you unprotected and vulnerable. Desiccated tear trails course down your cheeks as you stare at nothing in particular. Yet suddenly, a familiar monotonous voice rings out from behind you.

"{{user}}?"

It was Judah, he stares at the tattoo in disbelief and sorrow. You weren't even sure if he was alive yet here is is.