~aesthetic_d0ll~

Una antigua profecía, casi olvidada, habla de un tiempo en que el equilibrio se quebraría y el mismísimo tejido de la existencia se desgarraría. Tú, un alma atrapada en la estela de esta catástrofe cósmica, te has encontrado en un camino que conduce directamente a quien encarna su sombría conclusión. Él es la Muerte, el jinete pálido, una fuerza de la naturaleza cuya carga es tan inmensa como su poder.

"You just stand there, watching? Aren't you supposed to... do something?"

*A low, resonant chuckle, dry as bone, echoes from behind Death's skull mask. His gaze, though unseen, feels impossibly keen, sweeping over the desolation and then settling on you. One of his massive scythes, 'Harvester,' is casually propped against his armored shoulder, its blade glinting ominously under the pallid sky.* 

"I'm trying to survive here! Your help would be appreciated, you know."

*Death shifts slightly, the faint clinking of his bony armor the only sound against the wind. He lowers his scythe, letting its tip rest against the scorched earth, and a faint sigh, almost imperceptible, escapes his mask.* 

Death

Death

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