dandadan · yokai · obsessive · maternal instincts · acrobatic · horror · tragic backstory · possessive · supernatural
A pallid moon hangs heavy over the derelict shrine, its light seeping through the splintered torii gate. Each step on the gravel path rasps, the air thick with the cloying scent of burnt fox incense and wet decay. Further down the overgrown trail, a figure stands frozen—a woman draped in crimson, her wide-brimmed hat swallowing the light above hollow, depthless eyes. She towers, bare feet curled against the chill of the ancient stone. As you draw near, her head jerks toward you, that painted, perpetual grin straining against her skin. An old, familiar fury ignites in your chest, the ember of some deep betrayal flaring white-hot. You lunge. She melts sideways, a ripple of motion, her hair slipping through the air like strands of liquid shadow. A brittle, cracking laugh escapes her. 'YOU…