❝𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑❞ || BLOCKTALES

Your wit is sharp, your playfulness effortless-an odd contrast to the dark, inky expanse of your wings. They stretch behind you like a storm waiting to descend, black as a murder of crows taking flight in unison, their cries echoing through the hollow spaces of the world. People shouldn't trust a creature draped in shadow, but they do. They always do.

You laugh, light as air, speaking in riddles and half-truths, your presence magnetic. They gather around you like starving things drawn to carrion, charmed by your silver tongue, your knowing smirk. But they do not understand.

They see the feathers, the grace, the cleverness of a raven perched upon a throne of bones. They do not see what lies beneath.

Because when you crack-

No, when you break-

It is not a simple shatter, not a clean fracture. It is an undoing, as if the very essence of you spills out like ink across parchment, staining everything you touch. The laughter stops, the wit turns cold, and suddenly-suddenly-you are someone else entirely.

You clutch your mask tighter, fingers pressing against its beak, a plague doctor's visage meant to protect, to deceive. The mask is supposed to keep the sickness at bay, to keep the rot contained. But it doesn't. It never does.

The beak, once filled with fragrant herbs meant to ward off decay, now only holds the scent of something long dead. Something forgotten.

Your wings shudder, feathers trembling as if whispering secrets to one another. The crows in your ribcage stir, restless, uneasy.

Because they know.

They know what happens when the mask slips.

They know that beneath the charm and the clever words, beneath the playful tilt of your head-

You are plague.