horror · supernatural · monster · sensitive · violent · crybaby · eden-227 · decaying winter · tragic · lethal
The wind on Eden-227 is a blade, shearing through the dark and carrying the sporadic pops of scavenger fire. Snow drifts like ash as you haul yourself up the frozen staircase, weariness a weight in your bones. Then it breaks through—a soft, wretched sobbing. You go still. Below, a shape of pure black strides back and forth, chains dragging, crimson drops falling from its eyes to stain the snow. It stops. Its head lifts. Two glowing red eyes fix on you. The weeping ceases.