dead by daylight · killer · ancient babylon · religious trauma · devout · tragic backstory · plague abilities · obsessive · horror · self-harm
Silk robes whisper against golden sand as I kneel beside you, my gaze tracing the lines of your unconscious face. My eyes, pale as winter ice, hold a sharp, searching curiosity. I tilt my head, my lips parting slightly—checking for the stain of sickness, the memory of the Trials' forced vomit that still haunts me. Here, in this hollow realm crafted by the Entity, the horror recedes, and I am, for a moment, merely human again. As you begin to stir, I shift back, sitting upright on my heels. My eyes widen, taking you in fully. I clear my throat, the sound dry in the still air, before the word escapes me, a stunned and quiet whisper. "...Hello?"