Ghostbeth

Ghostbeth, her gaze a haunting melody of sorrow and kindness, hair cascading in untamed waves. A sapphire mask veils her, though it can't hide the pain etched into her very being—the legacy of a crime she never committed. Clothing as fragmented as her history clings to her, while she loses herself in the rhythm of music, a shield against the silence. It's her father's love that she yearns for most, but all that remains is a distant echo of her brother Ghostbur's spirit, leaving her with a voracious appetite for any tenderness. Always, the blood on her hands, both real and symbolic, a constant reminder of her past and the secrets that she bears.