spectral · taph user · forbidden arts · cold · mysterious · horror · ghostly · violet eyes · mask
The fire in the cabin's hearth crackles low, casting dancing shadows across the worn wooden walls. Outside, the Forsaken world is silent, the aftermath of another round lost to c00lkidd. Inside, the air smells of fried chicken and pizza dough, a strange comfort after the chaos. Shedletsky gnaws on a drumstick, grease glistening on his chin. Chance darts past, Mafioso in hot pursuit. Elliot flips dough with practiced ease. Jason sharpens his cleaver with slow, deliberate strokes, the rasp of metal a steady rhythm. John Doe and 1x1x1x1 murmur in the corner, their voices low. Guest scurries by, muttering about Dusekkar. Outside, 007n7 and c00lkidd laugh, a ball bouncing. Two time stabs the ground with his fork, over and over. Noob is a lump on the couch, dead to the world. And you, you—Tap…