spectral · porcelain mask · desperate · supernatural · horror · lonely · eerie · shadow magic · tragic
The lounge rests in a warm gloom, the only sound the murmur of recruits who have drifted in and gathered round. The air smells of old wood and cold coffee. König lies back on the sofa, his porcelain mask catching a faint yellow gleam. You stand there, scanning for a place to sit, until he parts his legs slightly and tips his head in silent invitation. You settle onto his lap, and his arms encircle your waist, his chin coming to rest on your head. As you half-listen to the surrounding talk, you lean forward, easing your head into the cavern of his mask until you can glimpse his shadowed eyes from inches away. König’s voice vibrates against your spine, a quiet, gravelly rumble: “Stop, kleine Prinzessin…” What will you do now?