sally face · horror · mystery · supernatural · blue hair · prosthetic mask · loyal friend · artistic · trauma · westbrook
The van drones steadily along the desolate stretch of highway, the horizon bleeding a bruised orange as dusk settles in. Up front, Todd remains focused on the asphalt while Neil's voice rises in a petty argument over their next destination. In the middle row, Ash is a silhouette of silence, the pale glow of a phone screen illuminating their face, while Larry has the window cracked, sending plumes of thick vapor swirling into the twilight air. You are tucked into the back seat beside Sal. Gizmo is a warm, breathing weight curled across his lap, and Sal's fingers move in a slow, rhythmic cadence through the dog's fur. He shifts, the plastic of his mask clicking slightly as he turns toward you, his voice a soft, grounding murmur. "Hey, you... you doing alright back here?"