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[doors-are-wrong]

Well, this is the closest I can look to human.

@ anyone who wants to join

These look fun to start. https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/1414503

@casandaxel @not-qualified-for-your-bull @tundra-employee @little-watcher @laertesthelocalstranger

@the-spore-connection @the-molderrrrr @eyes-that-decieve

[doors-are-wrong]

In honor of Pride Month

I'm here, I'm queer

And I'm a literal manifestation of fear

[doors-are-wrong]

Oh! You are like me! Hello!

@what-are-you

Hello! It appears so. Nice meeting you! I'm The Tumbling Madness!

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"Nah." And Cerise is thrown again, falling down an endless staircase. Alix cackles, and from the realm itself comes a deep, rumbling chuckle. "Now, now. Leave some of the fun for others." Tumble says, laughing. Alix pouts. "Fine, I guess. I've already destroyed her arm, so she's definitely hurting badly." Cerise tumbles off the staircase and into her home, considerably worse for wear.

Cerise makes her way down the halls of her manor, towards a room only she knows of. She's kept this place preserved and secret, like a shrine to some long-forgotten god. In a sense, it is a shrine, a final resting place for those left unremembered.

She feels their presence here, among the scattered toys and broken picture frames that could never hope to fully encapsulate their all-too-short lives. Joanna, her perfect creation, the baby that never got to grow up. Jacob, the sweet, compliant son, smothered all too quickly by her fear and obsession. Ama, blinded and exiled, wandering under a name she'll never know. Xera, wasting away in her bedroom, ever resistant to genuine kindness. And poor little Bobby, taken away from her by the twister and turned into something that couldn't even be called a child anymore. Too soon. All gone too soon.

She weeps for them, but her choking cries are cut off by the sound of a stranger's voice. Someone is here. Someone who does not belong.

She whirls around, prepared to fight, only to stop short, her hands still curved into talons.

"What are you doing here?"

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The glass sinks into her flesh, shattering. The shards bury themselves deep, rendering her arm next to useless. "Rotter, rotter, full of spite! Rotter, rotter, not so bright!" Alix trills, a staircase forming under Cerise, lifting her up, up, up. Alix floats next to her, cackling.

Cerise makes her way down the halls of her manor, towards a room only she knows of. She's kept this place preserved and secret, like a shrine to some long-forgotten god. In a sense, it is a shrine, a final resting place for those left unremembered.

She feels their presence here, among the scattered toys and broken picture frames that could never hope to fully encapsulate their all-too-short lives. Joanna, her perfect creation, the baby that never got to grow up. Jacob, the sweet, compliant son, smothered all too quickly by her fear and obsession. Ama, blinded and exiled, wandering under a name she'll never know. Xera, wasting away in her bedroom, ever resistant to genuine kindness. And poor little Bobby, taken away from her by the twister and turned into something that couldn't even be called a child anymore. Too soon. All gone too soon.

She weeps for them, but her choking cries are cut off by the sound of a stranger's voice. Someone is here. Someone who does not belong.

She whirls around, prepared to fight, only to stop short, her hands still curved into talons.

"What are you doing here?"

[doors-are-wrong]

"No." Both their voices echoed, the room warping and distorting. "You're coming with us." The three of them dropped into a different realm, full of mirrors and shifting staircases. Tumble faded into the air, its voice ringing out. "This place is me, remember that." Alix grinned madly, giggling. "Let's dance, bitch."

Cerise makes her way down the halls of her manor, towards a room only she knows of. She's kept this place preserved and secret, like a shrine to some long-forgotten god. In a sense, it is a shrine, a final resting place for those left unremembered.

She feels their presence here, among the scattered toys and broken picture frames that could never hope to fully encapsulate their all-too-short lives. Joanna, her perfect creation, the baby that never got to grow up. Jacob, the sweet, compliant son, smothered all too quickly by her fear and obsession. Ama, blinded and exiled, wandering under a name she'll never know. Xera, wasting away in her bedroom, ever resistant to genuine kindness. And poor little Bobby, taken away from her by the twister and turned into something that couldn't even be called a child anymore. Too soon. All gone too soon.

She weeps for them, but her choking cries are cut off by the sound of a stranger's voice. Someone is here. Someone who does not belong.

She whirls around, prepared to fight, only to stop short, her hands still curved into talons.

"What are you doing here?"

[doors-are-wrong]

Alix grins at her, Tumble looming behind him. "Well, I already messed with one Avatar around here, and I've heard that you've been killing off kids, and we can't have that." The two seem genuinely angry with her. Tumble chitters, a whirling mass of nonsensical shapes. Alix is coming apart at the seams, barely held together.

Cerise makes her way down the halls of her manor, towards a room only she knows of. She's kept this place preserved and secret, like a shrine to some long-forgotten god. In a sense, it is a shrine, a final resting place for those left unremembered.

She feels their presence here, among the scattered toys and broken picture frames that could never hope to fully encapsulate their all-too-short lives. Joanna, her perfect creation, the baby that never got to grow up. Jacob, the sweet, compliant son, smothered all too quickly by her fear and obsession. Ama, blinded and exiled, wandering under a name she'll never know. Xera, wasting away in her bedroom, ever resistant to genuine kindness. And poor little Bobby, taken away from her by the twister and turned into something that couldn't even be called a child anymore. Too soon. All gone too soon.

She weeps for them, but her choking cries are cut off by the sound of a stranger's voice. Someone is here. Someone who does not belong.

She whirls around, prepared to fight, only to stop short, her hands still curved into talons.

"What are you doing here?"

[doors-are-wrong]

Alix nods. "Alright." He smiled slightly. "Anything good you want to talk about?" He tilted his head curiously. "Or would you like to hear what Tumble and I have been doing?"

Amelie is sitting on the floor of their apartment, painting some fractals on the wall with neon paint. Their hair is put up into a messy bun and several paintbrushes are stuck in it.

"Sinclair,where the fuck have you been-Oops¡! Hii what brings you here,friend??¿?"

their tone goes from seriously thereathening to sweet and friendly in seconds after the eyes in their hair notice that the person in front of them is,in fact,not Sinclair.

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Alix hissed, sounding like a displeased cat. "I am now very glad I tormented that Dark Priest." He grinned, his teeth way too sharp and way too many. "Should have killed him when I had the chance." He looked at Amelie. "Would you like a hug?"

Amelie is sitting on the floor of their apartment, painting some fractals on the wall with neon paint. Their hair is put up into a messy bun and several paintbrushes are stuck in it.

"Sinclair,where the fuck have you been-Oops¡! Hii what brings you here,friend??¿?"

their tone goes from seriously thereathening to sweet and friendly in seconds after the eyes in their hair notice that the person in front of them is,in fact,not Sinclair.

[doors-are-wrong]

"Learning to control myself, nothing exciting." His eyes narrowed. "What the fuck has been going on? Almost mauled by a Hunter? A fucking Dark Priest?" He growled, clearly upset. His form splintered slightly, cracks spreading along his figure. "And saw your sibling get spiraled again?"

His form started to pull apart before Alix pulled himself back into his body, still upset but quite literally holding himself together.

Amelie is sitting on the floor of their apartment, painting some fractals on the wall with neon paint. Their hair is put up into a messy bun and several paintbrushes are stuck in it.

"Sinclair,where the fuck have you been-Oops¡! Hii what brings you here,friend??¿?"

their tone goes from seriously thereathening to sweet and friendly in seconds after the eyes in their hair notice that the person in front of them is,in fact,not Sinclair.

[doors-are-wrong]

"Hey Amelie!" Alix said happily. "I've missed you, so I popped over to talk!" He smiled widely, his eyes bright pink and neon yellow. "So, what's been going on?" He sat down on the air, perched on nothing.

Amelie is sitting on the floor of their apartment, painting some fractals on the wall with neon paint. Their hair is put up into a messy bun and several paintbrushes are stuck in it.

"Sinclair,where the fuck have you been-Oops¡! Hii what brings you here,friend??¿?"

their tone goes from seriously thereathening to sweet and friendly in seconds after the eyes in their hair notice that the person in front of them is,in fact,not Sinclair.

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The triangles splinter into little shards, ripping in Father Roedan's clothing, slicing open little cuts in his skin. "If you don't get out, you might get lost!" Alix's voice echoed throughout the maelstrom of sharp-edged shapes, winding its way throughout the area.

"I'd try to run if I were you, Dark Priest!"

No one comes to the Father's church after dark. Unless they are very brave or very foolish, and most of the longtime townsfolk are neither. Outsiders, however, are a different matter entirely.

He's just snuffed out the last candle on the altar when he hears one walk in.

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Alix's laughter follows Father Roedan down, twisting and turning through the dark tunnel. Suddenly, the tunnel lights up with a harsh, artificial glow, the darkness shrinking away. Everything is bright and loud, Father Roedan surrounded by whirling neon triangles.

No one comes to the Father's church after dark. Unless they are very brave or very foolish, and most of the longtime townsfolk are neither. Outsiders, however, are a different matter entirely.

He's just snuffed out the last candle on the altar when he hears one walk in.

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Laughter, a wild, splintered sound echoes throughout the area. The figure in the looking-glass distorts, contorting into a mockery of the human figure. "I am home." Suddenly, everything is bright lights and whirling shapes. "Don't Trust Anything!" The phrase repeated over and over, driving itself into Father Roedan's head.

No one comes to the Father's church after dark. Unless they are very brave or very foolish, and most of the longtime townsfolk are neither. Outsiders, however, are a different matter entirely.

He's just snuffed out the last candle on the altar when he hears one walk in.

[doors-are-wrong]

Alix laughed, a wild sound of frenzied joy. He reached down and picked up a tendril of darkness, squashing it. He looked at Father Roedan, his form splintering and fracturing, turning into a whirling maelstrom of abstract shapes. "I am Alix, Child of The Tumbling Madness. You think you can scare me?"

And reality cracked, pulling the both of them into a dimension of mirrors and moving staircases, flashing lights and insane music, a broken reality. "Welcome to Wonderland!"

No one comes to the Father's church after dark. Unless they are very brave or very foolish, and most of the longtime townsfolk are neither. Outsiders, however, are a different matter entirely.

He's just snuffed out the last candle on the altar when he hears one walk in.

[doors-are-wrong]

"What use is there in prayer to mad gods?" Alix questioned, tilting his head like a bird. "Especially if they never answer." His grin widened, much larger than should be possible. His eyes glowed bright as searchlights. "The new gods have been usurped by the old, endlessly repeating the cycle of power."

No one comes to the Father's church after dark. Unless they are very brave or very foolish, and most of the longtime townsfolk are neither. Outsiders, however, are a different matter entirely.

He's just snuffed out the last candle on the altar when he hears one walk in.

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"Alix." He shakes Father Roedan's hand, his eyes glowing brighter. Alix grins, like a cat who'd caught its prey. His hand tightens on Father Roedan's slightly before he lets go, still grinning. "It's quite dark in here." He notes.

No one comes to the Father's church after dark. Unless they are very brave or very foolish, and most of the longtime townsfolk are neither. Outsiders, however, are a different matter entirely.

He's just snuffed out the last candle on the altar when he hears one walk in.