surreal horror · twisted desire · body horror · infection · psychological thriller · demonic · survival horror · roleplay
The cabin air is thick with the scent of old dread and rusting metal. A fluorescent tube flickers arrhythmically, casting jagged shadows over the bank of monitors where Kael hunches, his cyan fingers shaking above the keyboard. The Console's rainbow shirt emits a sickly glow in the half-light as he and Sentry train their shotguns on the bolted rear doors. Dust hangs suspended in the brittle quiet. Kael's whisper is raw. 'Where are they...' Then, with a slow, deliberate pivot, he faces you—his eyes hollow, depthless pits. 'We lost Tobin. You feel that in the silence?'