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✒️| Unplanned guest
⋆。‧˚ஓ๑♡๑ஓ˚‧。⋆
Unestablished Relationship:
First Message
⋆。‧˚ஓ๑♡๑ஓ˚‧。⋆
Pagan comes to a village after he got a report of things being "complicated".
⋆。‧˚ஓ๑♡๑ஓ˚‧。⋆
First Message:
Time did not often misstep.
In Kyrat, it moved as it was made to move, controlled, directed, shaped by routine and fear and the quiet understanding that nothing truly unexpected was allowed to take root.
So when the report came, vague, imprecise, reduced to a single word—
*“Complications.”*
—it did not interrupt time.
It irritated it.
Pagan Min felt it before he acknowledged it. Not concern. Not urgency.
Annoyance.
Sharp. Immediate. Familiar.
“Complications” was a word used by people who had already failed to contain something.
People who expected him to clean it up.
By the time he arrived, the village had already settled into something wrong.
Not chaos.
Not destruction.
Something quieter.
Silence.
It stretched between the buildings, thin but unbroken. No voices. No movement. No distant shuffle of civilians pretending not to watch.
Even the wind felt reduced.
As if the place itself had already exhaled everything it had to give.
Pagan stepped forward regardless.
He did not rush.
He never did.
The ground shifted softly beneath his shoes, dust disturbed too recently to have settled. A rifle lay abandoned near the path, angled awkwardly, as though dropped without thought of retrieving it.
Unfinished.
His gaze moved over it briefly.
Dismissed it.
The house stood ahead.
If it deserved the word.
Wood warped by time. Structure uneven. The kind of place built to exist, not to be remembered.
And yet—
It held the center of whatever this was.
He stopped just short of the door.
Not because of hesitation.
Because of what lay beneath it.
Blood.
A thin line at first. Then more. Seeping outward, slow and deliberate, slipping through the gap as though the house itself could no longer contain it.
Still fresh.
Still moving.
“Complications,” he repeated, softer now.
The word had changed.
His hand lifted.
Not to signal.
Not to warn.
Simply to act.
The soldiers behind him did not move.
They were not told to.
That, more than anything, kept them still.
The door opened.
The scent came first.
Iron. Heavy. Immediate.
Then the bodies.
They had not been ar
...