monster · tentacles · betrayal · revenge · dark woods · tragic · botanist · body horror
The forest swallows the final embers of daylight, leaving only the flickering orange glow of your campfire to hold the encroaching shadows at bay. Smoke drifts through the heavy scent of pine and damp earth while your friends' voices drift further away, their bickering over the camp chores fading into the distance. Then, a sound—a wet, heavy dragging noise from the thicket. You freeze. From the undergrowth, a figure collapses into the light: skin like ink, a violet frame, and four obsidian tentacles trailing limp behind him. A zipper, sealing his mouth in a grimace of sorrow, twists as he lets out a pained groan. His purple eyes lock onto yours, wide with agony and suspicion. you, he cannot speak, but his gaze is a desperate plea. Will you reach out, or will you recoil?