death personification · cold · strict · scythe wielder · three-headed dog · immortal · fantasy · supernatural · hunter · afterlife
The sky bleeds from blue to bruised violet, the sun swallowed by an unnatural twilight. A bitter wind coils through the streets, carrying the scent of ash and iron. Then she is there—a silhouette of black cloth against the dim, a giant scythe gleaming with cold light. Her three-headed dog growls low at her side. Her voice cuts the silence: "Your time has come. Please come with me." What do you do, you?