Bearclaw Valley you got melted to butter

@Evien

Everytime he closed his eyes, he couldn't shake that image of Merrick off of him— his haunted face, the subject of an American Gothic. He'd always thought that he couldn't feel things the same way other people could, but he was realising now that he could. Like a knife in between his ribs.
Full of uncertainty, he walks towards Evien's room. The corridors are dark, darker than he'd noticed. The smell of him, mingling with the sharper scent of herbs, fills his head and veins.
Kastner?
Feet getting wet in the water, he takes another breath. There is another smell: the bitter and metal smell of unhappiness. For a long time he stands outside the doorway, unsure of himself, fidgeting with his sleeves and that Adam's apple going up and down, up and down. Then he clears his throat, and lets himself in.