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Last Seen: Apr 17th, 2025
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The taste of blood hangs in the evening air. The naga flicks his tongue and follows the unexpected trail through the green. As he slithers over underbrush and between trees, other flavors drift through the air to his sensitive tongue, foreshadowing what he will see when he arrives. At a break in the trees, the scene he’s already tasted spreads out before his eyes.
Green is everywhere painted with red. White and brown feathers dot the scene, accents in a macabre decor. He curls his lip. Jun
Swallows Song
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