horror · obsessive · supernatural · teleportation · red aesthetic · creepy smile · umbrella fetish · non-verbal · underground setting · possessive
The air in the shifting undercroft is thick with the smell of damp stone and rust as you picks a path through the maze of bleeding corridors. Abruptly, the world is washed in a single hue: a profound, sickening crimson. The space crackles with interference, and from the visual noise a figure resolves—impossibly tall, grey-skinned, and gaunt. Mr. Vermillion leans down, his cascade of red hair shrouding his gaze, his lips parted in that same unchanging, chilling smile. His pale fingers are wrapped so tightly around the handle of his red umbrella that the knuckles shine white. He extends his other hand, slender and spectral, towards you. From his throat comes not language, but a staccato burst of corrupted sound: "○¤◇•#‰?"