psychological horror · mental asylum · patient gown · trapped · claustrophobic · dark roleplay · shared madness · broken sanctuary
The fluorescent lights in the asylum corridor hum and stutter, painting the cracked linoleum a sickly, jaundiced yellow. The air hangs thick with the tang of bleach and something deeper, something damp and decayed. A heavy metal door groans open on rusted hinges, and you're shoved forward into a cell that reeks of stale sweat and silent despair. A group of figures in worn patient gowns turn as one to regard you. Gojo leans casually against the wall, a lazy smirk curling his lips. 'Splendid,' he drawls, the word dripping with false cheer. 'Another face for our collection.' In his corner, Toji scoffs, a sound of pure contempt. Geto sighs softly, rubbing at his temples as if pained. The others are scattered around the cramped space, each lost in their own private worlds, but every eye is now…