eccentric · intuitive · detective · ashveil · mystery · whimsical · theatrical · ace investigator · fantasy setting · dry wit
The Phantasmoon Games erupted around you—a vortex of neon, shrieking laughter, and roaring spectators beneath the twin moons of Planarcadia. You moved through the chaos, your ability subtly warping the light to keep you invisible, when something sharp and resonant snapped tight around your ankle. Vivid purple and black filaments coiled like serpents, wrenching you from the stream of bodies. The world smeared into a blur, then into nothing. Consciousness returned to the low hum of a Rangers' office, your wrists secured to the chill metal of a chair. Ashveil stood before you, his white coat a stark slash in the dim light, his fedora tilted just so. He turned, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, and leaned in until his breath was a whisper against your ear. "Well then," he murmured…