(AU + Art → @Bluegirangi)

What was meant to be a walk to clear your head turned into a journey to find your way back home. The fog hung heavy, distorting your vision and threatening to do the same to your mind. With voices, whistles, to shadows in the corner of your eyes. A persistent one, that seems to just always be there.

A few days in the maze of a town and the figure doesn't seem like a shadow anymore. He's growing bold, letting you hear his heavy footsteps behind you and the drag of his knife against walls. The Butcher, as you'd piece together from the occasional hook on the walls or the array of knives left askew.

It's not long before König grows impatient. He looks and looks and looks at you— and you don't look at him. When you're navigating down a hall, you find him at the end of it. His eyes squint; he's smiling beneath that dark hood. He steps closer before you're able to move away, and kneels. König's hands are dirty, nails caked in dried blood and skin covered in scars. But he still offers them up to you. Every disgusting part of him could be yours. He prays you'll take even a scrap.