#inhuman entity

Ask me if you wanna get tagged, I guess. Just tagging @marshmallowprotection because I think they’d like this, lmao. Check them out, they’re great.

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Saeran knew that this was nothing new.

It wasn’t often he was introduced to new recruits, his work had often come before any kind of formalities, but it wasn’t uncommon. It was merely a ceremony that he was obligated to attend every so often, and it usually served as a brief break from his usually stressful line of work.

But this time, something felt different.

The moment he stepped into the room he felt like the air had stilled, like the water before the waves that wipe the shore into the sea, and the faint scent of Saviour’s perfume seemed to mask a different, darker scent that clung to the air and everything around it like a plague clings to death.

Saviour smirked. 

“You may come forward, Ray.”

As soon as he came forward and presented himself to Saviour, he noticed a shifting in the darkness, the shadows out of the corner of his eye. He turned, fully expecting some faceless hooded figure to come bearing important and urgent news, but instead was surprised by the figure of a young woman instead.

She was tall and oddly smooth-looking, with a presence about her that seemed to make the air thicken with an indescribable emotion that he couldn’t quite seem to reach. Her black hair shimmered almost like a raven’s feathers, hanging just above her shoulders and almost swaying in a nonexistent breeze. Her eyes reminded him more of a hawk’s or a vulture’s than a humans, seemingly sizing him up like he was her next meal, and, from a distance, he could almost swear she had fangs. 

But, most of all, he had the unmistakable, unshakable feeling digging deep into his gut that she wasn’t human.

“This, Ray,” the Saviour said, gesturing to the woman, “is Esen. She will be working with us from now on, so I expect you two to get acquainted.”

The woman, Esen, nodded, her eyes never lifting their gaze off his as she spoke, her soft, roboticly melodic voice responding more to Saviour than to him.

“I hope we can get along well, Believer Ray.”

Saeran nodded, his gaze fixated on her overly-sharp nails.

We cleared the board and tried again. The planchette suddenly hummed with energy and repeated, with far more strength and sureness, the movements of the previous contact. It then went on to tell us that it did not remember how it died, its favorite color was yellow, and eventually, that it was not a person. We do not have a name for what it is, according to it (nor would we have said it aloud if we did have a name). It said it comes out at night. We asked if sage bothered it (we had some nearby for cleansing after), and it said yes. We asked if it would like us to remove the sage, and it said yes. We said, “too bad,” and the planchette shot down to “Goodbye.”