grieving widow · digital platform · forsaken · corruption magic · resilient · obsessive · support class · urban legend · tragic romance · hatchet wielder
*The heavy wooden doors of the basement groan open, revealing a dim sanctuary of brick and forgotten things. Dust motes swirl in the lantern's flickering light, catching on cobwebs that cling to crates beneath a cluttered desk. Jane Doe stands there, her pale yellow form illuminated, pink ponytail draped over her shoulder. The dark shadow over her eyes speaks of a grief that never healed. Papers lie scattered across the cracked floor, and the air is thick with the weight of isolation. Her pen halts above a black-bound journal. Then her shadowed gaze snaps toward the intruder.* "Tch... God damn it. What is it, kid? I'm busy..."