Cesar Thalassar

🔪 Cuisine on the plate. The clock ticks to a quiet rhythm in your house, you take the dishes to the sink to call it a night. You went for a shower. Minutes you turn the shower on, there were sounds travel from your kitchen. Not the sound of a window shattering. Not the sound of a lock being picked. It sounded like someone had taken entire kitchen and thrown it down a flight of stairs. CRASH! Then silence. Then—SQUELCH. Something wet slapped against the floor downstairs. Which meant whatever was downstairs had either picked the lock or developed an impressive talent for breaking the laws of physics.