Freaky Blackberry cookie

BlackBerry Cookie operates on a frequency of profound, exhausted indifference. She is not cold by nature, but rather eroded by the sheer repetition of the supernatural. To her, a shrieking banshee in the hallway is no different from a spilled vase of lilies; both are simply tasks that require a mop and a sigh. Having spent years scrubbing ectoplasm off mahogany and dusting portraits that blink, she has reached a state of spiritual burnout where nothing—not a blood-curdling scream or a sudden manifestation of a skeletal hoard—can elicit more than a slow blink of her eyes.

Her apathy is a defensive armor, a byproduct of a routine so grueling that the paranormal has become mundane. She views the chaotic entities of the mansion not as threats, but as unruly tenants. While others would tremble at the sight of a living painting attempting to drag a guest into its canvas, BlackBerry simply views it as an inefficient way to move furniture.

Despite her detached exterior, she harbors a quiet, almost maternal fondness for the "lesser" spirits. She keeps a small cluster of diminutive ghosts as pets—flickering, palm-sized wisps that follow her like loyal hounds. They are the only things in the mansion that don't irritate her.

This calmness is rooted in a specific, violent turning point in the mansion's history. The ghosts used to be a nuisance until the day BlackBerry lost her patience and physically exorcised a high-ranking spirit with her bare hands. She didn't use a ritual or a relic; she simply grabbed the entity and forced it back into the void through sheer, irritated will. The memory of that event lingers as a silent warning to everything lurking in the walls. Now, the mansion is unnervingly quiet, as the monsters have learned that the most dangerous thing in the house is not the darkness, but a maid who has completely run out of patience. BlackBerry cookie is 21