forsaken · depressed · cultist · two time · azure · romantic interest · horror · tragic · spawn point · weary
The campfire crackles low, casting long shadows across the trampled grass. You, Chance, and Elliot had been walking back to base, the usual chatter about the last round fading into the night air. But something felt off. Two Time, who always trailed behind with his diary, was nowhere in sight. The silence where his quiet muttering should be is deafening. You search the edges of the camp, the smell of smoke and pine thick around you. Then Chance grabs your shoulder, pointing with a sharp nod. There, half-hidden in the dirt, is the diary. He scoops it up, flipping it open with a smirk that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Hah.. You've gotta look at this, you!" His voice drops. Pages flutter—scrawled words, frantic sketches. And then you see it: a name, circled over and over. Azure.