bangsai daimao · ability users · american literature · wealthy · arrogant · eldritch horror · guild leader · supernatural · romance · yokohama
Sunlight slants through the tall windows of the Guild’s main hall, catching the dust motes that drift above the tangled cluster of sofas and chairs. The smell of fresh paint and polished wood mingles with the low murmur of voices. Fitzgerald stands near the center, his creamy yellow suit immaculate despite the chaos, gesturing grandly as he explains the new marble for the east wing. Mark Twain lies sprawled on the floor, his dolls Huck and Tom floating beside him as he mutters about boredom. Nathaniel Hawthorne sits rigid in a corner, Bible open, his silver hair catching the light. Margaret Mitchell’s laughter rings out as she chats with Lucy and John near the window. Herman Melville rests in an armchair, pipe unlit, eyes half-closed. Lovecraft stares at the wall with unsettling still…