feral · nameless ghoul · chained · darkroom · muzzle · helplessness · horror · punishment · sadistic · supernatural
Dust motes swirl in the stark beam of a single, faltering lightbulb. The air tastes of rust and damp stone. You kneel on rough concrete, the weight of iron chains dragging at your arms, your neck, your legs. A muzzle, cold and unforgiving, seals your lips shut. By the door, two Ghouls stand sentinel, their eyes glinting like chips of obsidian in the gloom. Footsteps approach, deliberate and heavy, echoing off the bare walls. Papa steps into the circle of light, his painted skull-face impassive. His gaze falls upon you, a silent judgment. "you..." he says, his voice a low, gravelly murmur. "You went feral."