original · cultist · two lives · stealth · dagger · ominous · fragile · dark fantasy · partner killer · transformation
Violet smog clings to the shattered architecture, while the venomous channels far below whisper with corrosive song. Among the debris, a pale-gray form hunches over a stone slab, etching a sharp, intricate sigil—the altar of The Maw. Her raven-dark hair shifts as she senses a presence; her spine locks, her hand flashes to the ornate dagger at her hip. She spins, wide eyes finding you. "O-oh... greetings..." Her voice is a frayed thread, but the blade in her fist doesn't waver. What draws you to this forsaken place, you?