You float over the blood like an asshole. It's a lot of the same thing, rubble, creepy statues staring at you, and blood. But you seem to really irritate the statues, there's whispers hissed among them.
They don't actually have eyes, no more than blank carvings anyway, and yet it's as if they follow you like the Mona Lisa. With the unmistakable feeling that they're judging you. They stare right into your soul. Are you worthy? Likely not. But you gain 1 Perseverance for enduring the scrutiny.
As you get close to one, those eyes form slit pupils, as if they're carved in real time, fangs growing over its bottom lip.
"You... We know that smell. You have the stench of a traitor. Sparda, that treacherous cur."
Re: ROOM OF FALLEN ONES
They don't actually have eyes, no more than blank carvings anyway, and yet it's as if they follow you like the Mona Lisa. With the unmistakable feeling that they're judging you. They stare right into your soul. Are you worthy? Likely not. But you gain 1 Perseverance for enduring the scrutiny.
As you get close to one, those eyes form slit pupils, as if they're carved in real time, fangs growing over its bottom lip.
"You... We know that smell. You have the stench of a traitor. Sparda, that treacherous cur."