"Holding anger is a poison. It eats you from inside. We think that hating is a weapon that attacks the person who harmed us. But hatred is a curved blade. And the harm we do, we do to ourselves"
--- Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet in Heaven
**...
The sounds of crackling flames echo throughout the dense and dark forest. At times like this the 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 offers comfort when usually the safety of this fire is accompanied by feeling of dread and hate. But for the few occasions the flicking flames are soothing and warm, a light in this dark realm. Just for right now though it is perfect for the lone man who sits close to the ever bright campfire, writing away in his 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥. He was tall in statue as he hunch over writing away sitting on a large log close to the campfire. He has reddish-brown hair that was slightly wavy, he had a slight stubble that was a bit grey, his light blue eyes were sharp in focus. He had on a long grey coat with fur outline with charms sewed into his coat, blue thick pants, and brown fur lined boots.
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Even if the forest wasn't cold, the man wasn't hot.... Actually he barley ever sweat from the heat even if the locations he been to were thick with humidity. He ever felt a bit warm but it didn't bother him much, suppose it is one of very very few perks of this hell. The man continued to be absorbed in his writing scribbling his thoughts to forget the hell he's in for a bit. Perhaps it's his old habit of being an investigator that intensely focusing on things or writing away his thoughts calm him a lot.
