"darkness will spare my soul."
PUBLIC BIO
there is a figure that haunts the cemetery libitina. it is tall and shrouded in veils of black, tattered and caked in mud and viscera. it lurks between the headstones, tracing long, skeletal fingers along the rotted remnants of bouquets days, months, years ago left to rot. it does not eat, nor sleep, nor breathe, nor blink. it stands guard, tall and sharp as the cemetery gates, with tireless endurance. it stands, and it watches, and it waits. always, it waits.
PERSONALITY
there is a figure that haunts the cemetery libitina. it wreathes itself in chrysanthemum, and it calls itself holy. it is devout, as all unholy things should be. it is the terrible, looming saint peter at the cemetery gates. it stains its artificial hands with mud and viscera. it tears at its own clothing, scratches at its metal skin. it calls itself holy.
anyone who sees it can tell that this is not so. it is good, then, that the opinions of humans do not matter to it. they are far more useful to it when they are silent beneath the hallowed ground it haunts.
the gentle sound of a music box hymn follows it wherever it goes. this, at least, can be called holy.
