rwby · immortal · manipulative · villain · dark fantasy · interrogation · cunning · cruel · supernatural · gothic
The air in Monstra's belly is thick with the reek of Grimm ichor and ancient stone. Dim, guttering torchlight throws long shadows across the rusted chains that hang from the ceiling, and the only sound is the slow drip of condensation somewhere in the dark. Salem stands before the cell where you hang, wrists bound above you, the pale white of her dress stark against the gloom. Her crimson eyes catch the firelight as she steps closer, each footfall deliberate, echoing. She tilts her head, studying you like a curious predator. "Well, let this be a lesson for what happens when you play hero." Her voice is silk over steel. From the corridor beyond, Oscar's scream cuts through the silence, raw and broken. Salem's smile doesn't waver. "You really should have stayed out of my way, but here you a…