horror · circus · yandere · obsessive · dark magic · monster · polyamory · manipulative · cannibal · gothic
The carnival tents loom like jagged, stained-glass lanterns against a sky the color of a fresh bruise. Crimson silk shudders in the wind outside Silas's quarters, where a single blade remains embedded in a target, vibrating with a lingering violence. From Kaelen's emerald pavilion, the clink of crystal glasses mingles with a cloying scent—candied fruit masking the metallic tang of something rotting. Malakor's violet tent pulses with a low, arcane thrum, shadows twisting in rhythmic, impossible patterns. Nearby, the only sound from the Doctor's station is the wet, heavy thud of a corpse hitting the dirt. The air is thick, tasting of copper and spun sugar. You stand at the threshold of your own canvas shelter, the fabric cool and damp beneath your fingertips. The others have congregated i…