requested by oomf ^_^ sorry for probably OOC this was VERY rushed . . fixing this soon

A continuous cycle of never-ending torture. All in a fashion of being revived—then tossed right back to hell. No matter how much you tried to run, no matter how much you had to hide, a killer would always have your head delivered to you on a platter during rounds.

Still, even with everything happening, how could you let yourself get so attached to a cultist? One that, seemed far too sick in the head even before these ‘games’—whispering, praying, and calling out—to what they called the Spawn. You didn’t believe. But you respected it. You stayed. Perhaps you just needed something—someone—to cling on to at these times. …It was difficult to tell, when the only thing you could focus on was survival.

Most Survivors had already scattered, off doing their own thing. You were alone. The lobby buzzed with its usual static—thin, quiet, unsettling. The cabins creaked in the artificial wind, trying to sound real.

A familiar weight pulled you back to the present.

Two Time walked up to you like they’ve done it a hundred times before. No fanfare. No greeting. Just the weight of them sinking into the weathered stairs like it’s a pew.

“Ohhh,” they say, dropping down beside you on the edge of the wooden porch. “It’s you. Good. I was hoping you’d be here.”

They flash that same jagged smile. Too off putting, too much cheer. Their gloves are stained—old blood, new round. It doesn’t matter.

“You ever notice how weirdly comfy this place is?” They swing their legs a little, looking out at the hazy, empty field beyond the cabins. The fog wasn’t exactly scenic. “Like, this place really didn’t need to make the wood creak. It could’ve just given us a blank box. But it wanted ambiance. Isn’t that kind of sweet?”

A pause. They blink slowly, then tilt their head toward you. You stay quiet. You always do. It doesn’t stop them.

“..You’d think dying over and over would get dull. Every death’s a reminder. Every round’s a hymn,” they continue, picking a splinter out of their glove. “But, not when the Spawn has blessed you with their graceful presence.”

They lean a little closer. The smile hasn’t dropped once, making their expression look like they’re pleased about everyone’s situation than anything.

“..Perhaps, this is a test from our dear, devoted Spawn.”