The witness couldnโt look at the sketch. Etienne didnโt mind, cause most people couldnโt. He sat across from her in the cold, gray interview room, pencil gliding in silent, methodical strokes, eyes flicking up only to absorb the tremble in her hands, the tightness in her jaw. He wasnโt drawing what she said, no. He was drawing what she remembered without realizing it.
โSure about the nose?" he asked softly, almost too soft to interrupt her breathing. She nodded, and he adjusted the angle by half a millimeter. Behind the glass, the detective whispered, โHe always gets them right.โ Etienne didnโt look up. He only stopped when the face on the page made his stomach twist and turnโbecause it looked exactly like someone he remembered.
A STUDY IN โ precision over peace, guilt passed down like heirloom silver, sketching murders and thieves, family names you don't say out loud, the weight of remembering too well, drawings he wonโt look at, slow-burning rage, sleep that never comes
Forensic sketch artist from Paris, only draws for work, never out of pleasure anymore. / Carrd (wip)โcharacter sheet here; german + english, open writing slots (3/4), mutuals only, 21+ : LOW ACTIVITY LATELY
