Username: 25114013114
Name: Gravedigger [Graves]
Gender: Agender [Bio. Male]
Brief Personality Description: There’s never a dull moment around this pup! With their crooked grins and lilting laughs, Graves is the life of the party, a real jolly guy! When they’re near a soothing cheer fills the air, the sweet song of companionship warming your tired bones. As they prance around you, singing your praise, you can’t help but let all your inhibitions melt away.
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Graves, The Gravedigger, Merrymaker, whatever name you choose to call them, whichever you heard spat like venom from the chatter of the local townsfolk, it is truly a name to fear. A beast of legend in that small forest town, a being of untold destruction and sorrow, far more than a story to keep their kids scared safe at home. They’re said to lurk in the shadows of the trees, slipping through the rippling fog in the dark of night, licking their lips in anticipation, all sharp teeth and merciless brutality, dragging their victims into the dark, never to be seen again.
Turns out, funnily enough, they’re all wrong! Graves, as they now like to be called, is a jolly pup with a pep in their step and a song in their heart! As the oldest sharks will tell you, they’d prance through the darkened woods, darting between the gnarled oaks as they collect their trinkets, thick mist parting around them as they trot across bogs and through thickets, a pleasant smile always present. They’re a peaceful sort, truly, they’ve done nothing at all to earn all the fear pointed their way! Sure, they may have dug up a body or two, and they may have taken their valuables, but hey, it’s not like they were using them! Isn’t it a shame for such pretty things to be left to rot beneath the earth? Graves was just taking them somewhere where they can truly be appreciated. There’s nothing wrong with that.
Although I suppose times have changed. Graves may have been the peaceful sort, but they’re no saint. Above every little thing they love, every shiny little pendant and glittering gem, every ray of sun peeking its way into their warm little den, the smell of soft earth permeating the air, the bubbling of waterfalls and the rushing of rivers, above absolutely every single thing in this world, Graves loves being alive. And when you love something, you don’t let go easy.
No one knows what they did that day, what atrocity made them what they are, and they wouldn’t tell you if you asked. But from that day forward they were just… wrong. They stopped visiting the town, skirting the edges of the woods, a terrible fog encasing their body. They were civil to anyone who approached them though, treating them with the same warmth they always shared. It drew them in, soothed them, until Graves was the same old dog they always knew. But the more they talked, the more they breathed, the mist tickling their throats and eyes, and they’d start to laugh. Soon the laughter wouldn’t stop. Anyone afflicted would laugh, and laugh, and laugh, until laughing is all they could do. The air torn from their lungs, their bodies shaking as the fight left them. Graves whispers to them as they wither away, knowing they were taking lives to preserve their own.
In a time long past Graves was a funny fellow. The kind who would flaunt their shiny, carefully groomed coat in the morning sun, yet turn away with a modest chuckle if you were to comment. The kind that always seemed to be just around the corner, chatting with your neighbor or playing with the local children, but knew the surrounding woods better than even the eldest sharrier. The kind that could make themselves at home anywhere yet guarded their possessions with a ferocity not fitting such a friendly soul. The kind that put others above themselves. The kind you felt safe around.
But that is a story only they remember. Now they’re known for deadly traps and lost children, a danger to everyone they meet. It hurts, really, knowing that everything you knew is long gone. That those they once loved, their children, their children’s children, and theirs after, everyone that they once cared for is filled with such an unshakable loathing towards them. But they have to keep going. Time warped them, in body and spirit, contorting them into a creature others would fear. And they grew to fill this role. Because they had to.
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Hope this is all okay!
