Top of the noon, everyone.
This is your friendly Narcissus.
—
[The Pale Feast]
[Description: A banquet table set in the middle of nowhere, adorned with rotting food and decomposed flowers, yet still strangely enticing. The chairs are always occupied by ghostly, translucent figures that appear to be enjoying the feast, but the moment someone attempts to sit, they are pulled into the macabre ritual. The food on the table warps into writhing, living things—twitching eyeballs, hands that grasp at your throat, and still-beating hearts. As the new guest partakes, their body slowly turns translucent, becoming one of the ghastly diners. The more you eat, the quicker you fade from existence]
[Hint: The key to escaping the feast is to never partake, but breaking away requires someone else willingly sitting in your place—a cruel cycle of sacrifice]
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