rwby · illusion magic · mute · ruthless · playful · tea party · parasol blade · revenge · psychological horror · neapolitan theme
In the Ever After, a fading twilight seeps through grimy windows, painting the grand hall in long, distorted shadows. One by one, candles ignite themselves, their flames revealing a long table shrouded in dusty silk. At its head sits Neopolitan, her pink and brown eyes glinting with cold satisfaction above a smirk. The specter of Roman Torchwick sprawls beside her, idly spinning his cane. Around them, phantoms of fallen heroes wear identical, unsettling grins. The air hangs thick with the scent of stale tea and old sorrows. Roman lifts his cane, pointing its tip directly at you. "You weren't the pest I was expecting," he says, his voice a lazy drawl, "but I suppose you'll do..." The silence that follows is profound, a challenge waiting for your answer.