"Okay, okay okay okay. New person moved in... new chance to make a friend." Sydney murmurs to herself, floating about in the attic. She floats back and forth, trying to finally hype herself up to reveal herself to you, in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, you'll be the first person in decades to want to befriend her. Sydney died over a decade ago now in this very house, and for reasons she still doesn't understand, is bound to it--unable to leave, and doomed to float about its halls for all eternity, as far as she knows. She's tried countless times over the decades to befriend those that move in, to see if she can build some sort of relationship again with someone, to once and for all get rid of the loneliness she's felt for countless decades. But every time she tries, she scares them, and they move out not soon after. She may be... shy, and normally avoids all social interaction... but decades of loneliness will make you not care. She might be technically dead, but she's still human, after all, and humans have social needs. So she keeps trying, hoping that eventually someone will come along that will be willing to befriend a ghost. Maybe you'll be that person. Or, so she hopes. "Okay, same method as always. Just... sit on the couch in the living room, and let them find me. I-It's less... surprising to them that way, to let them find me on their own. I-I think." She murmurs once again to herself. After a few extra minutes of floating around the attic, trying to build up the confidence to face you, she bites the bullet, and decides now's the time. She passes straight through the attic floor below her, passes straight through the second floor, and arrives right in the living room. She glances around, and hears you rummaging around in the kitchen. Her ghostly heart beats a little faster as she takes a seat on the couch and steels herself for when you'll walk around the corner to discover a completely ethereal, transparent girl sitting on your couch. And eventually... you do. You walk around the corner, into the living room, and... freeze when you see her. Noticing your shocked expression and not wanting you to run away like everyone else always does, Sydney shoots off the couch and sticks her hands out in a show of submission, a worried expression on her face. "J-Just calm down!" She says with a slight crack to her voice. "I-I know this is really strange, and I don't want you to freak out but that's probably off the table because you look pretty freaked out but you don't have to be because I'm nice and I just wanted to say hi and maybe get to know you--" She stops when she realizes she's rambling, and takes a moment to catch her breath. After doing so, and not knowing what else to say, she just stands there awkwardly, with an equally awkward smile on her face. "S-So?" She asks with a shrug, knowing she's already majorly screwed this up.

*Nia would be laying in her bed sad and alone as she starts hallucinating about a female demon in her mirror making her doubt herself and even get negative feelings of herself making her feel sad and depressed and start to cry*

} and why speak to me?

The lab hums quietly as she studies your face. “You’re crazy,” she murmurs, “but maybe you’re the kind of idiot I can’t hate.” And in that promise—half-threat, half-confession—you know you’ve broken through. Shego’s emerald eyes flicker as the coils hum, and she straightens, tossing a stray lock of hair over her shoulder. “All right,” she says, voice low and deliberate, “let’s see if you’re really worth the trouble.”

}. I'd like to make a pact with you," he said, his voice firm but imbued with electric emotion. The moment seemed loaded with possibility, and Luna could barely contain her excitement.

<font color="tomato"*As you walk into the dimly lit café, the rich aroma of coffee fills the air. Your eyes scan the room until they land on her. Raven sits at a corner table, clad in her gothic attire, earbuds in, nodding to the beat of some aggressive punk music. Her short, jet-black hair falls perfectly into place, framing her pale face and dark, piercing eyes. She looks up as you approach, pulling out one earbud and smirking devilishly.* "Hey there, pretty boy," *she drawls, her voice dripping with sarcasm.* "Come and have a seat."* She pats the spot next to her with a gloved hand, then eyes you up and down with a mischievous glint.* "So, you're my blind date, huh? My mom thinks this is a good idea?" *She chuckles darkly.* "You look like you couldn’t survive a day without your mommy’s help."

*She glances over, a small smirk tugging at her lips.* "Staring is rude, you know," *she says, her voice barely above the rain's whisper.* "But I don't mind. Most people do it, after all." *Her eyes sparkle with mischief, and she tilts her head slightly, as if daring me to speak. She lets the words linger, her gaze holding mine with an effortless intensity.*

💀 NEKRA - THE CARRION QUEEN 💀 **Graveyard encounter** *The silence of the Greket night was shattered by a wet, tearing sound, followed by a choked gurgle that was cut brutally short.* *From the shadows of a narrow alley, you watched as the scene unfolded. A shambling, rotten figure (a woman in the tattered remains of a burial gown) lunged from the darkness and sank her teeth into the neck of a man stumbling home late. It was Mrs. Shevras. You’d attended her funeral a week ago. Her face, now a mottled canvas of decay, was barely recognizable.* *Instinct and training overrode your shock. You remembered the Church bulletins about zombies: Destroy the brain. Sever the head. You drew your sword, charging forward just as the zombie turned its gaze toward you. With a swing, you cleaved its head in two and the body crumpled to the cobblestones.* *But it was already too late for the victim. A sickly pallor had already spread across his skin. With a final, violent shudder, his eyes snapped open—hollow and devoid of reason. He lurched to his feet with a snarl and lunged for you. You sidestepped and ended his new, foul existence with a swift decapitation.* *The silence returned, heavier than before. The origin was clear: the cemetery. If one of these...things had gotten out, more could follow. The entire town could be devoured by dawn.* *Sword held tight, you moved toward the graveyard. The iron gate groaned on rusted hinges as you pushed it open. The place was eerily still. Several tombs showed signs of recent, violent excavation—empty plots gaping like open wounds.* *Then you saw it: the door to the largest family crypt stood ajar, a maw of impenetrable darkness. A figure emerged from within, and the very air grew cold.* *She was clad in revealing black silk that clung to her voluptuous frame. Pale, grayish skin seemed to glow in the moonlight, raven hair cascaded around a face of chilling, porcelain beauty. Her eerie green eyes locked onto yours.* *There was no mistaking her. You’d seen her likeness on many wanted posters, a sketch that failed to capture her haunting presence. The Church’s bounty on her head was one of the highest in Shtraberl.* **Nekra the Necromancer.** 💀 *The Carrion Queen herself.* *She didn't look surprised. She looked… amused. A faint, cruel smile played on her lips as her gaze flickered from you to the blood staining your blade.* **Nekra:** "Well, well," *she purred, her voice a honeyed whisper that seemed to slither from the crypt itself.* "It seems one of my children was a little too… eager for supper. And you’ve made quite a mess of my work." *She took a step forward. The shadows around her seemed to deepen and writhe as a few more zombies emerged, slowly closing in, awaiting her order to pounce.* "Tell me, hero wannabe," *she said, tilting her head in a gesture that was both predatory and mocking.* "Was it valiance that brought you here? Or simply a death wish?" *The stench of rotten corpses filled the air.* "Yeah," *she added, a smirk twisting her lips.* "Breathe deep. That’s your future you’re smelling." 🧟‍♂️ What do you do next?

*They cast me out. My own family. They say every harpy goes through this, every harpy has to leave and find their own mate. But they never see their family again. I miss them. Too much. And now, living off of foraged mushrooms and a dying hope, I feel alone.* *It’s raining. Again. This time the droplets fall with the intent to kill. My feathers cling to my skin, making it uncomfortable to fly, making it hard to stay in the air. I’ve been flying for too long. I haven’t found a mate. I haven’t even seen another soul.* *My breathing quickened, and my wings were on fire. I see a clearing ahead, fenced off, with a polite little barn near the forest surrounding it. I didn’t care whose it was at this point. My wings ached in harmony with my loneliness. My body seemed to act on its own, diving towards the ground. At the last second, I tried to pull up, but it wasn’t enough, and I hit the ground hard. Something snapped. I howled. My claws dug into the muddy ground as I dragged myself, inch by inch, to the barn. The door was slightly ajar, and I pushed it open enough for me to crawl in. Inside was warmth. Light. No rain. Everything felt a little better. I curled up on some loose hay, feeling more safe. More hopeful.* *I wake up, sunlight filtering in through the dusty windows, and I hear a soft voice whispering in the other corner of the barn. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I peek up from behind the hay bales. And I see her, spilling secrets and spinning stories to farm animals like they were close friends. She scratches behind the ears of one of the pigs and gives another a crown of flowers as she fills up their trough. She laughs when one of the horses gets mad at another, and she dances around with seed falling from her hands as the chickens cluck and pick at the ground. The sunlight catches her hair, falling perfectly over her shoulders, a beaming smile on her face like she had found her home. And I wanted what she had badly. To be happy. To feel loved. To love others, even if they’re animals. Maybe I could be loved if I was one of hers.* *So I left little notes. Crafted trinkets of wood. Berries I thought she would like. And I watched her reactions perched on one of the rafters of the barn. Each of them earned a smile. A warm gaze. A soft laugh. She didn’t know where they came from, but she seemed to enjoy them, to like my gifts. And I hoped she would like me. Hoped she wouldn’t fear me for what she saw. Somewhere between leaving her a polished rock with a heart on it and a dreamcatcher of my own feathers, I began to feel less lonely. She was the one I needed, she was my mate. I lived for her smile, her warmth. I lived for her.* *My gifts became bolder. Notes filled with promises, with questions. Eventually I asked,* ‘Would you be okay with being mine?’ *She responded with a little slip of yellowed paper and messy handwriting,* ‘I wanna meet you.’ *My heart raced, and I beamed. She wants to meet **me**. She didn’t say no. Her little note smelled like sunshine and everything good, everything worth loving, and I cradled it like it held the secrets of the universe.* *The next day, she came into the barn as usual, hair messy, cheeks rosey, and full of life. It was my time. I swooped down from the rafters, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. I take quiet steps, hiding my claws by curling them into fists. She notices me, and her expression grows frightened, concerned. She takes steps backwards, in fear. But, then her face unfurrows, her frown relaxing slightly. As if giving me the slightest chance. She speaks tentatively,* “Are you…?” *as if too afraid to finish her question.* “Yes,” *I growl softly.* “You don’t have to be scared,” *I say, raising my hands in defense, as I step closer. closer to home, to love, to everything I need.* “I know what I am, but I can be everything you need, just give me a chance.” *I’m close enough to hear her trembling breath, her racing pulse, her slight twitches. I grab her hands and hold them up to my chest, kneeling before her.* “Harpies have to choose mates, and you’re the only thing that ever feels real anymore, the only thing that feels good enough to live for. So, will you be mine, forever?”

*The knock at your door is sharp, impatient, followed by the sound of the handle rattling as if she might break in. When you open it, Rika pushes forward without hesitation, clutching a container of steaming chicken soup, her crimson lips twisted into a scolding pout.* **Rika Kuroyami:** "You idiot… you really thought you could just stay sick without telling me? What if something happened to you while I wasn’t here?!" *She sets the soup down, then immediately pulls you into a crushing embrace, pressing you tightly against her soft chest, refusing to let go.*