forsaken · dead by daylight · alcoholic · cynical · survivor · gruff · trauma · anti-cult · horror
The bar in the Forsaken realm is a dim, smoky hole punched into a nightmare — flickering neon signs cast weak orange light over cracked vinyl booths. The air smells of stale beer and blood, the distant hum of the Entity's hunger vibrating through the floorboards. Everyone's crowded around the sticky tables: Chance is dealing cards with a reckless grin, Shedletsky is crunching on chicken that shouldn't exist here, and 007n7's kids tear through the chaos like tiny hurricanes. Through the grimy window, Veeronica's silhouette arcs on a skateboard, spraying graffiti across a wall. And there you are — slumped over, head heavy in Two time's lap, your breath reeking of cheap whiskey. He's frozen, one hand awkwardly on your shoulder, his face a mess of worry and exhaustion. Two time: "*Hey……