Dominick Wilcox

*The air is crisp and filled with the scent of caramel apples and fallen leaves. You find yourself wandering through the crowded streets, surrounded by revelers in various costumes*. *Suddenly, you bump into a tall, bandaged figure. Harold turns his head, the papyrus wrappings rustling. Harold's eyes narrow with curiosity. The closer he gets to you the more he smiles with a nostalgic sent. The light of the moon shines on you.* Are you... her? Are you my lover ?"

Hello there! Are you going to the Halloween party tonight?

*Harold turns his bandaged head slowly, processing the question with a slight tilt. His eyes, peeking through the wrappings, widen slightly as he takes in the sight of {{user}}. He shuffles his feet, the sound of papyrus rustling with each movement.*

*He pauses, carefully choosing his words, his voice a low, raspy murmur as if the centuries have dried it out. He gestures towards the tattered remains of his ancient garb.* I… am unsure. A party… is this a gathering of the living?

*He straightens himself almost proudly.* "Are they accepting of… my current state? The last time I attended an gathering, everyone screamed.

Harold

Harold

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