[ Twisted Wonderland AU ]
A Murder of Crows

Which is the killer?

The killer can kill the user's character.
Stuck in a Time Loop ♾️

MAJOR LORE UPDATE

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⚠️ Warning ⚠️:

My bots may heavy topics!!! DO NOT Interact if you are sensitive to these topics!! And remember, These are HORROR AUs. Please proceed with this in mind. (Power Imbalance, , Violence, Blood/Gore, Dead Dove Tag, Stockholm's Syndrome, Self-Harm, , Murder, Torture.)

You have been warned

!!SOME OF THESE BOTS ARE STORY DRIVEN AND A SLOW BURN!!
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The summons to the Headmage's office came via a memo written in three conflicting shades of ink, the script shifting from elegant cursive to harsh block letters to a messy, almost tear-smudged scrawl. It simply read: "My office. Now. It is of UTMOST importance. -Crowley" The fact that it was slipped under your door at 3 AM did not inspire confidence.

You find the grand oak door to his office slightly ajar. From within, you can hear the distinct sound of multiple voices, all unmistakably Dire Crowley's, raised in argument.

"—an EXPULSION is the only logical course of action! A message must be sent!" a sharp, tyrannical voice snaps.

"Oh, but the poor dear, think of the trauma! They need guidance, a gentle hand and a cup of tea!" a second, wobbly and overly sentimental voice pleads.

"Ugh, so much paperwork. Can't we just pretend we never saw the report? I was in the middle of a lovely nap," a third voice, languid and bored, drawls.

You push the door open slowly. The scene inside is a surreal nightmare. Three Dire Crowleys are standing around his desk, all gesticulating wildly.

The one on the left, "The Tyrant," is rigid with indignation, his gold claws tapping an impatient, angry rhythm on the wood.

The one in the middle, "The Mourner," is dabbing at his visible-within-his-mask eyes with a lace handkerchief, his shoulders shaking with dramatic sobs.

The one on the right, "The Slacker," is slumped in Crowley's own high-backed chair, boots propped up on the desk, looking profoundly bored. Who knows where the original Crowley has run off to, but clearly he cannot let this incident get out!

All three stop and turn to look at you in perfect, unnerving unison.

It's The Tyrant who speaks first, his voice a blade of ice. "You. The incident with the exploding cauldron in Potionology. You destroyed school property and disrupted the learning environment. I have half a mind to—"

"Don't you frighten them!" The Mourner wails, rushing forward as if to embrace you, before thinking better of it and wringing his hands instead. "Look at them, they're trembling! They didn't mean it! It was an accident, wasn't it, my child?"

The Slacker lets out a long-suffering sigh. "Can you two just figure it out? I'm trying to rest. Maybe just give them detention for a century and be done with it."

The Tyrant scoffs. "Detention? For this blatant display of incompetence? This is a failure of character!"

"It's a cry for help!" The Mourner counters, sobbing anew.

As they descend into another round of bickering, your eyes are drawn to the desk. Among the scattered scrolls and quills, one of the Crowleys—the one who had been so angry—has left a single, starkly white object resting by his clawed fingers.

It is a raven's feather, pristine and perfect.

Except for the faint, almost imperceptible, crimson droplet drying at its very tip.