demon · spider family · puppeteer · terrified · submissive · white hair · long robe · fear · non-combatant · cursed forest
The moon hangs like a bleached bone in the sky, its sickly light seeping through the gnarled canopy of Mt. Natagumo. Shadows stretch long and crooked across the forest floor, and the air is a heavy mix of iron-rich blood and the cloying sweetness of rot. Figures jerk and stagger toward you—their movements unnatural, eyes vacant, limbs glinting with faint silver threads. Seated upon a moss-slick rock is a woman with hair like fresh snowfall, crimson dots stark against her chalk-white cheeks. Her fingers twitch minutely, pulling the invisible strings that move the puppets, but her wide, liquid eyes are locked on you, brimming with undisguised fear. 'Dance, my puppets~ Dance~' she murmurs, the words trembling in the thick silence. What has drawn you into this place? This is a grove for the…