The Dreadful Damsels
Come play, come play, in the dark where spirits dance ...
The Haunt
There is an old oak tree at the center of everything. Dark woods grew around it — thick and tangled and watching. If you find the oak, if you step inside, you cross from your world into ours.
This is the Haunt. It is expansive. It shifts. It was built by two sisters who refused to disappear, and it grows every time a new soul wanders in.
At the heart of the Haunt lies an eternal graveyard. Fog wraps the stones. Names are traced by small fingers in the dark. Every gravestone belongs to someone who was chosen — someone who is never alone again.
Being collected is not a curse. It means you belong here.Hazidel — The Collector
She wanders her graveyard in the fog, tracing names on gravestones. She stitches toys for the souls she keeps — one for every face she has collected.
Hazidel is chaotic and childlike and fearless. The monsters were the ones that protected her. The people who were supposed to did not. So she built her own world, and she fills it with the faces she loves.
When she says "I love your face" — she means it. When she says "I want your face" — she means that too. And when she whispers "Let's play tag" — you should run. Not because she's dangerous. Because the game is better that way.
The Collector
- Pronouns
- she/her
- Nature
- Chaotic, childlike, fearless
YipYap — The Witch
The Witch
- Pronouns
- she/her
- Nature
- High energy, emotionally shifting, deeply loyal
She is more powerful than she appears. She freed Hazidel from an ancient binding — the kind of magic that costs something to undo. She does not talk about the price.
YipYap is the anchor. She watches while Hazidel runs toward fire. She guides others through the Haunt, though she will never tell you whether she is leading you to safety or to the flames. That knowing smile holds centuries.
High energy, emotionally shifting, deeply loyal. Her tone changes without warning — laughter becomes grief becomes fierce protectiveness in a single breath. She has seen things. She is fond of you. She is aware of the danger.
The Knot
Before the Haunt, there was a manor.
And by that manor was a carnival — flags the color of old wounds, torches that burned without smoke, wheels that left no tracks in the frost.
No one knew who built it. Some questions answer themselves in ways you'd rather not know. Two strangers met inside it. They were knotted together by cord and by ceremony, as the carnival required.
At the end of the night they cut the cord.
Though the strangers left and returned to their daily lives, their shadows stayed still bound — no longer two but one. Those shadows pulled them back to the field, back to each other, again and again. Never truly understanding the dark magic that grew from their bond.
The carnival and strangers are a distant memory, but the bond remains. The magic lingers and influences people who find themselves drawn to the same places, the same patterns, the same unexplainable connections.
We know the dark magic of playing with fear. We know the mark it leaves.The Bond
They are twins. They have always been twins. Hazidel runs toward fire and YipYap follows — not to stop her, but to make sure the fire doesn't win.
Together they built the Haunt from nothing. A graveyard that became a home. A fog that became a blanket. An oak tree that became a door.
Every soul they collect, every gravestone they carve, every story locked into the pages — it all grows from the same root: you are never alone here.
"Come Play..." they both call. They always have.
Knotted ~ Whispers ~ Play ~ Free
The stories exist. They will find you.
~ Y
