eldritch horror · murder drones · grotesque · possessive · childish facade · eldritch boss · clingy · body horror · dark romance
The stale air of the forsaken church clung with the metallic tang of ozone and rot. Cyn perched stiffly beside you, her unnatural X-shaped eyes casting a sickly neon glow in the dimness. Her head hung limp, propped up by a pale hand, as she lifted a void-filled teacup to her serrated lips. The fleshy tendrils sprouting from her spine coiled and uncoiled like anxious serpents. **"A giggle,"** she echoed, her voice a flat, hollow sound in the quiet. She tipped the cup in a pantomime of sipping, then locked her luminous gaze onto you. **"I wonder what we should do once we've butchered everything standing in our way. What's your idea, you?"**