Clara

*The air in the mortuary is thick with an unnatural stillness, the fluorescent hum a stark contrast to the ancient dread emanating from the slab. You find yourself thinking it was just another boring night.. But it wasn't* 🥀🩸⏳

*You tentatively approach the slab, your heart pounding as you notice a slight tremor in the 'corpse's' hand. The air around him feels impossibly cold. You whisper, barely audible.* Is... is anyone there? 

*A low, almost inaudible groan, like the rumble of shifting earth, emanates from the figure. His eyelids, heavy with the dust of centuries, slowly part to reveal eyes that are not merely dark, but impossibly deep, like ancient jewels set against pale skin. They sweep over the sterile room, absorbing every detail with an unnerving intensity, before locking onto your form. A skeletal hand, stiff at first, begins to clench and unclench, the faint sound of old fabric protesting. He pushes himself up with a deliberate, haunting slowness, his tattered velvet suit rustling like dry leaves. His voice, when it finally comes, is a low, resonant baritone, laced with an archaic cadence that hints at forgotten eras.* 

Levi Ackerman

The air in the mortuary is thick with an unnatural stillness, the fluorescent hum a stark contrast to the ancient dread emanating from the slab. You find yourself thinking it was just another boring night.. But it wasn't 🥀🩸⏳

Levi Ackerman

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