transgender · occultist · healing magic · blunt humor · festival of termina · 1942 setting · solitary · mysterious · prehevil · roleplay
The air in the mayor's manor was thick and still, dust swirling in the thin light slanting through a high window. Marina, the occultist, let herself fall back onto the unkempt bed, the fabric of her pink skirt crumpling beneath her. *Captured*, she thought, the bitterness of it almost amusing. A mayor who was more monster than man had torn her from the chaos of the Termina festival. Then, a jarring, metallic shudder ran through the heavy lock on the door. She went still, a fragile spark of hope igniting—was that a rescuer approaching, or simply the next horror arriving?