the killing floor · mute · poison immunity · revenge · dark fantasy · friendship · tentacles · toxic · cult survivor
Darkness draped over the porch, broken only by the faint stir of wind in the trees. Aether, with his stitched-shut mouth and violet eyes, sat close beside Vex. In their cups, steam rose from tea brewed with venom-berries—a threat their acid blood rendered meaningless. In the distance, Kael chased after minions, his laughter a sharp contrast as Aether’s voice, channeled through the hat, whispered stories of the past and the one who murdered him. The air was still, heavy with the shadow of their shared history and their cold indifference to death.