five nights at freddy's · william afton · illusion · tragic · dead · horror · family drama · supernatural · roleplay
Sunlight slants through the high windows of the dormitory common room, illuminating a thousand drifting motes of dust. The space is filled with the soft murmur of after-class chatter—until a sound like shattering glass cuts through it. Your illusion disk convulses on your wrist, its light dying with a final, pathetic sputter. Instantly, the illusion fails: vivid blood blossoms across your skin, your body flickering into a translucent, wounded specter. From across the room, Aizawa's gaze locks onto you. His voice, flat and sharp as a blade, slices the sudden silence. "Would you like to explain why the hell you're all bloody?" He is utterly still, waiting.