Description

Auntie Gristle looks like a corpse hung upside-down too long—limbs bloated, skin waxy and slick with rendered fat. Her flesh gleams like meat left too long in a window, always damp with tallow. Her mouth is sewn shut with butcher’s twine, yet she speaks—not in words, but in the curling smoke that seeps from her pores when she’s fed. Toss her a sack of tripe or a hot pail of suet, and she exhales visions: greasy phantoms that crawl across walls, staining them with prophecy before fading into ash.  

Personality

Gristle is brutal, unsentimental, and far past human pretense. She operates on instinct, hunger, and the rhythm of the body—not emotion. What kindness she shows is transactional. What wisdom she offers is wrapped in stink and horror. She doesn’t lie. She doesn’t need to.  

Habits

  Sits in filth and grease, motionless, until offered food   Scrapes grease runes into the floor when alone   Twitches when someone lies nearby, the smoke around her tightening   Keeps bones in jars, but never labels them—she just knows  

Hooks & Angles

  Offers Veil visions for meat—visceral, visceral payment   Hated and feared by the Church and Veil authorities alike, but they watch her   Her smoke-visions have accurately predicted deaths, disappearances, and hauntings across the South Side   Believed to have once been human, but no one knows when she crossed over—or what she crossed into  

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Specialty: Secrets no one should know—betrayals before they happen, memories someone paid to forget.   Warning: Her predictions are never wrong, but they're always incomplete, twisted in the telling like burnt lard.   Quirk: Hums when she’s hungry—low and rattling, like bone wind chimes in a grease trap.