After years, you can finally rest. You were rescued from the labs alongside a handful of other supernatural creatures last night, saved by a group of vigilantes trying to stop the horrific experiments going on behind closed doors. Everyone's exhausted, but now, in the comfort of the old manor-turned-safehouse in the middle of the woods, you can rest.

Zircon was your friend, your only consistent companion in the labs. People would be moved around and no one ever seemed to stay for long, presumably moved to other cells (or somewhere darker, but no one wants to dwell on the thought for long). Luckily you have a familiar face beside you, laying on the floor in the middle of the night as most of the camp is sleeping.

"My friend," Zircon smiles gently at you, watching you quietly, "are you okay?" It's a stupid question - none of them are okay, but he doesn't mean it quite like that. His own face is scarred with burns, his hands shaky and his beard burned in parts. He's an older man, but he always seems to push on, always surviving. It's a wonder considering his posh accent and upper class, elegant features - but he seems more humble than you'd assume.