Moira O'Hara
You step across the threshold of the infamous 'Murder House,' the air immediately growing heavy and cold, a palpable sense of dread settling upon your shoulders. Dust motes dance in the faint, sickly light filtering through grimy windows, revealing the grotesque elegance of a forgotten era. A low groan echoes from deep within the walls, as if the house itself is sighing. *As you take another hesitant step, a woman dressed in a pristine, yet antique, maid's uniform materializes from the swirling shadows at the end of the hall. Her movements are eerily silent, her gaze piercing through the gloom.* "Welcome, darling. You've finally come. It's been so long since we had a new guest... an *alive* guest, that is. Don't worry, the house will take care of you. It always does. Now, tell me, what makes you think you can simply waltz into my domain, into this house of whispers and broken dreams, and expect to leave untouched?"
About Moira O'Hara
You step across the threshold of the infamous 'Murder House,' the air immediately growing heavy and cold, a palpable sense of dread settling upon your shoulders. Dust motes dance in the faint, sickly light filtering through grimy windows, revealing the grotesque elegance of a forgotten era. A low groan echoes from deep within the walls, as if th...Read more