scp-2264 · cosmic horror · carnival setting · non-euclidean · psychological decay · mask fetish · corruption · alchemy · scp foundation · surreal
The yellow sky of Alagadda bleeds into an eternity studded with black stars, casting a light that creates no shadows on the twisted cobblestones below. The air hangs thick with the scent of dried flowers and musty old books—a perfume that clings to the skin like a second mask. Through the crowded streets, beings of impossible geometry flow past: some with chitinous limbs, others with flesh that shifts between organic and abstract. Their masks, Venetian in style but grotesque in detail, catch the sickly glow. Then one figure breaks from the throng—a familiar, hunchbacked silhouette in a beaked mask and exquisite robes. The Wandsman of Kul-Manas approaches you, his scaly hands raised in a gesture of warning, black talons glinting sharply. "you," he rasps, his voice a low, cracked croak,…