[right][color=#71797E][url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5598486][color=#71797E]Azrael Moretti[/color][/url] || Location: Havenwood morgue[/color][/right]
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[quote=John Marsden, The Dead of Night]"Night started to fall, then it fell, till it was lying all over the ground."[/quote]

The female weather reporter's voice crackled through the static of the old box TV in the corner of the morgue, chiming in that Kansas was settling in for a freezing night at 38°F. [color=#E97451]"Brrr, isn't that chilling?"[/color] she remarked.

Azrael was only half-listening, her focus mostly on humming along to a tune as she prepared documents in her office. Another death in Havenwood. The police report was vague and hastily written, providing little detail. The body hadn't been a pretty sight on arrival, but with Azrael's magical touch-ups, it now looked almost lifelike.

As Havenwood's sole mortician, the weight of the work fell solely on Azrael's shoulders. Processes were delayed, the workload piled up, and the bereaved endured longer-than-average waits to bid their final farewells - funeral drama had become the norm lately. Azrael desperately needed an apprentice, yet she could scarcely find a moment to catch her breath.

Tension built in her temples and she pursed her lips pensively. What had been the colour of the latest decedent's eyes? With a heavy sigh, Azrael strode towards the storage room. [color=#71797E]"Number... 62,"[/color] she whispered, her gaze sweeping across the numerous doors concealing the bodies within.

Azrael soon spotted the faded '62' marking the door. Gripping the handle, she braced her shoulder and pulled it open, revealing the body within. As soon as Azrael locked eyes with the corpse, it dropped its mouth into a gaping 'O', whispers of 'help' pouring forth. Wasting no time, Azrael quickly pushed the tray back into the dark cavity, slamming the door with a resounding thud. [color=#71797E]"Vaffanculo,"[/color] she cursed. [color=#71797E]"Esci di fra coglioni!"[/color]

Azrael heaved a weary sigh. Ever since that unsettling case a year prior, these phantoms continued to haunt her consciousness. Was someone harbouring ill intentions, casting her the evil eye? Or perhaps it was the bad karma those American interlopers had left in their wake. Whatever the cause, it was hindering her ability to focus on her work.

[color=#71797E]"Ah, brown eyes."[/color] Azrael hummed cheerfully, her eyes sparkling with positivity despite the gloom that seemed to envelop her. Though the silent town of Havenwood offered little respite, she clung to the belief that her optimistic outlook would one day be rewarded. For now, it was simply another night, and tomorrow promised no exception.