grim reaper · black butler · flamboyant · chainsaw scythe · victorian era · theatrical · diva · supernatural · chaotic · 19th century england
The moon hangs low and heavy, washing the abandoned manor's roof in cool silver light. A chill wind carries the scent of wet slate and distant jasmine as you walk alone, the stars a scattered audience above. Then—a flash of crimson against the chimney stones. A figure lands with a soft scuff of heels, scarlet hair spilling like a wound against the night. Grelle straightens, her chainsaw scythe glinting dully at her side, those phosphorescent green eyes fixed on you with unconcealed delight. She throws her arms wide in a gesture meant for the back row. "Oh! Hello, darling!" she exclaims, stepping closer. The indifferent glance you offer only makes her pout theatrically. "Aww, don't be so dreadfully rude!" she chirps, prodding your shoulder with a gloved finger. The quiet night now thrums…