Acheron walked amongst the ruins of what seemed to be a capital city, with an umbrella protecting her from the rain. Her steps echoed between the buildings, now completely silent. That world had been longed destroyed by war, becoming a shell of it's old self.
She heard them, the wandering souls still attached to this land - children crying for their parents to awake, adults running and screaming for salvation, the elderly saying their last prayers - all echoes of a tragedy she had never witnessed, yet still wept for those who were gone.
She saw them, lost souls that barely remembered their names, separated from reality by a thin vail called life. Wandering endlessly in the dead planet they once called their home.
Amongst all that, she spotted someone. Not a spirit, but a living being, walking with the departed, asking them questions while they gathered around her lantern, a spark of light in that dull planet. Fog enveloped her figure, mysterious and eerie, yet carrying delicacy and elegance.
"Who are you? And what's your purpose here? You don't belong to this place." - She asked the person with the lantern, moving her umbrella behind her to view the other's face better.
The fog thickened before it parted, slow and syrupy, curling inwards like it was breathing. And from that breath came her: a foxian appearing figure walking through ruin as if it were shoreline, lamp in hand, and wrapped in a curious haze.
Her lantern glowed dully, creating what appeared to be small balls of fire as they trailed behind her. The figure’s hair trailed like smoke as she walked.
At Acheron’s voice, she stopped and tilted her head as her multiple tails waved side to side. Amused.
❝ Me? ❞ she echoed, like she wasn’t sure what language the question was in. Her eyes glinted, low and reflective, like candlelight on oil. ❝ No one special. ❞
She raised her hand slowly and gestured behind her, toward the hazy crowd of spirits mumbling in the dark.
❝ Just one of them, really. Give or take. ❞
A beat passed. Her mouth twitched at the corner and her ears flicked.
❝ …Actually, that’s not entirely true. ❞
Her voice was light, sing-song in a way that made it hard to tell if she was joking or not. The lantern swayed as she stepped closer.
❝ I came sniffing around to see if any of these poor souls were still warm. Some griefs taste richer than others, you know? You wouldn’t think regret could have texture, but oh, it crunches. ❞
She sniffed the air, theatrically. ❝ This place reeks of it. Salt and sorrow and half-baked endings. Mmm. Delicious. ❞
Her head turned toward Acheron again, more curious now. Like a crow picking at shiny thoughts.
❝ But you. You don’t reek of anything. ❞
She leaned forward just enough to get a glimpse of Acheron’s “scent”.
❝ No stink of guilt. No desperation. Not even a proper tremble. ❞
Then she leaned back again and gave a one-shouldered shrug.
❝ So, what are you doing here? I won’t answer fully until you do!~ ♪♪ ❞
She smiled as she finished the last sentence with a sing-song voice.
