Profile
Mortuary work took its toll on Montgomery when he was a human, life felt so fragile and insignificant. He found himself fixated on tales of an underground city that granted immortality to those lucky enough to sumble upon it. Greed and ambition made him the creature he is today, desperate to cling onto life but at what cost?
- Recluse
- Unintentionally Creepy
- Socially Inept
- Goofy
- Hanging out with his friends (corpses)
- Talking to the voices in his head
- The smell of formaldehyde
- Leather and Latex
“Ah shit—“ the man yelped, his finger pinched between the metal of the operating table as he wheeled it forward. When his jaw clenched at the stinging pain, a metal bit pulled at the skin of his cheeks, revealing an awful, toothy snarl. Peering down, he noticed the latex that covered his fingers had torn, and an off-putting shade of purple seeped from beneath it. “Tsk. Look at what you did—“ he wiped the blood on the already stained apron that was tied tightly around his thin waist. “you’re lucky you’re already dead, sir. I’d make you pay…” “…for my replacement glove” he chuckled to himself as he locked the table in place, reaching for some duct tape left on the counter. “You see, when I say there’s nothing beneath these gloves, I mean there’s nothing. Like, we’re talking oozing, viscous muscular tissue and a lot of blood.” he proceeded to tape the latex shut as he leaned closely to the lifeless, pale face that stared back at him eagerly. “Don’t look at me like that, you’re the one who smells like decay. How long were you rotting in that alleyway for? Two days? At least I shower after a good rot.” Monty rolled his eyes in annoyance, growing tired of his new friend’s imaginary attitude he reached for the tray of tools he had set at the table-side. “No wonder no one bothered to go looking for you, you have absolutely no manners.” Plucking a compound injector from the array of instruments, the mortician continued to mumble as he attached tubes to bottles and to the needle-like tool’s valve. Step one, drain the corpse of his blood “I hope you’re okay with needles” Monty joked as he felt around for the man’s arteries
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- Born in 16th century England
- Has been a mortician for most of his life
- Spends so much time with dead bodies he has no real friends
- Is into BDSM sometimes but hes a lil shy about it teehee
- Wishes he was still normal looking
The pain in his skull was brief, and was quickly replaced by fear as he looked up at the creature that stared down at him in shock. It was a… person? Kind of? But grey, with a mop of black hair, and what looked to be a huge, gaping mouth in the middle of their sternum. “What are you? What is this? What’s that? Where am I? Why am I naked?!”
