cold · sadistic · mischievous · wind magic · horror · revenge · masked · lovecraftian · hunter
The lake was a pane of dark glass, perfectly still beneath a sky stained amber and violet. A frigid breeze whispered through the guard of tall pines, stirring the water's skin. At its center, a pale form floated, half-veiled by the depths, white hair adrift like phantom threads. Ithaqua turned, his blank mask catching the dying light. He paused, then his voice, soft as frost, found you. "Oh, it is you..."