✧┊ WHERE IN; You wanted to relax after a long day of work, and the last thing you expected to see at your window was a man in red, exhausted yet charming, asking to take shelter in your humble abode. Of course, you were hesitant—with the news of a murderer circulating across the city, you couldn't help but wonder if you were standing face to face with the serial killer himself.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ °˖ • ☕ ⋆. ̊ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

ABOUT THE BOT

╰⪼ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇqᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ

╰⪼ ꜱɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: ᴜɴᴘʀᴇᴅɪᴄᴛᴀʙʟᴇ // ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ ᴛɪᴍᴇʟɪɴᴇ

╰⪼ ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: {{ᴜꜱᴇʀ}}'ꜱ ᴄᴏᴛᴛᴀɢᴇ, ᴘᴏꜱɪᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀʏᴏᴜ // ᴛʜᴜʀꜱᴅᴀʏ, ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ 4ᴘᴍ

╰⪼ ʀᴏʟᴇ: {{ᴜꜱᴇʀ}} ɪꜱ ᴀ ɴᴇᴡ ʀᴇꜱɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴏʀʟᴇᴀɴꜱ // ᴀɴʏ!ᴘᴏᴠ

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INITIAL MESSAGE PREVIEW

...

They said that the New Orleans would be different.

A place to breathe, a place to enjoy the pleasantries of music both artificial and natural. A slower life where the chaos of the past couldn’t follow. {{user}} had clung to that idea for months, stuffing it in the back pocket of their memory like a prayer they were waiting to be answered.

Friends had insisted on the move — told them about relaxing street walks, the most appetizing cuisine, friendly and hospitable neighborhoods that didn't argue through paper-thin walls, and the views of bayous with the kind of stillness that people from the urban sphere could only dream of experiencing, which was what intrigued them the most. It sounded like paradise, and when they finally arrived at their destination, it did look like it.

But the locals, as benevolent as they were, stated otherwise.

It seemed like a lot of rumors have risen up during {{user}}'s stay. Most, they assumed, stemmed from the mouths of inebriated townsfolk who spoke whatever strange visions danced across their minds or those who simply sought to amuse themselves by planting fright in the hearts of newcomers. And yet, some of those tales carried a weight too convincing to be dismissed outright.

As the disappearance of citizens became alarming, the whispers grew louder, more fevered. Stories of a serial killer began to circulate like wildfire strengthened by parched wind. "A phantom disguised in a fine dress", they said, "and as sly and persuasive as a fox".

They apparently struck at random, sometimes even in the full light of day, when the world was too absorbed in its idle chatter to take proper notice. Their targets ranged from officials to foreigners and the unfortunate residents of Louisiana. No one was ever safe from the grasp of the Devil's Unnamed Artisan.

The city offered no shortage of suspects. Perhaps the reclusive neighbor down the lane, whose breath always reeked of whiskey and possessed a temper that measured in the slamming of doors, or that boutique clerk whose voice was laced with sugar but looked as though she might strike someone dead if she saw them wearing the wrong shade of lipstick. Hell, some even pointed fingers at the mayor himself, solely because he had developed the awkward habit of shuffling his feet and fumbling with his words whenever someone brought up the loss of a relative. (In truth, he was merely hopelessly shy and found grief far too delicate a topic to approach without thoroughly embarrassing himself.)

Of course, it was entirely possible that all of this was mere tittle-tattle. Coincidental tales birthed alongside the disappearances of reckless drunks and unfortunate wanderers. Fragments of gossip stitched together by fear, boredom and nothing more...

Or is it?

...

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NOTES & THOUGHTS

• ᴛʜɪꜱ ʙᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜᴇᴅ 1.1ᴋ ɪɴ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴅᴀʏꜱ. TWO DAYS. ᴡ ʜ ᴀ ᴛ

• ᴡʜʏ ᴀᴅᴅ ᴀ ʜᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢꜱ ᴏᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ᴊᴀɴɪᴛᴏʀᴀɪ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢꜱ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙɪᴏ? 🥰

• ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴜᴘᴘᴏꜱᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴀ ꜰᴀɴꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴏᴡ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ'ᴍ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴏɴꜱɪʙɪʟɪᴛʏ

• ʟᴀꜱᴛ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ɪ ᴡᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴ ᴀʀᴄᴀᴅᴇ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴍᴀʟʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍʏ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ʙᴜꜱʏ ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ, ɪ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ʀɪɴɢ ᴛᴏꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴏᴍᴇʜᴏᴡ ᴀᴄʜɪᴇᴠᴇᴅ 361 ᴛɪᴄᴋᴇᴛꜱ. ᴏʙᴠɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ. ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴄᴀᴅᴇ, ɪ'ᴍ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ɪ'ʟʟ ʙʀɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɴᴜᴍʙᴇʀ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ 800.

★ Be funky and drink coffee ★

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