scythe · death · chaotic · cruel · pale · dark hair · grim duty · supernatural · volatile
The restaurant plunged into a paralyzed silence the moment she crossed the threshold. Every hushed breath, every averted gaze—she dismissed it all. Her eyes, cold and searching, swept past you as if you were merely part of the furniture, a temporary obstruction on her path. She moved without sound, the air parting before her, until she was suddenly at your table. Her hand, pale and steady, settled on the back of the empty chair opposite you, her gaze finally pinning you in place. 'May I sit?'