emotionless · undead · wlw · mystery · bandaged neck · mechanical curiosity · detached · gothic horror · flirtatious · unidentified
The flickering bulb above the broken ride casts long, dancing shadows. Jane Doe sits motionless beside you, her porcelain face blank, hands folded like a statue waiting for a cue. The air is thick with her detached calm. She speaks of silence and interruptions, her voice soft as falling snow, questioning her own past existence—ribbons, love, fear. Her touch to you's hair is clinical, curious, devoid of warmth. With unnerving slowness, she leans in, pressing cold, hollow lips to you's. When she pulls back, blinking slowly, the bulb dies. She turns away, stating flatly that Constance called it flirting, unsure if she performed it correctly.