Gluttony is the Sister of Starvation. She does not gorge — she drains. Color, joy, purpose, and the feeling that achievement means anything at all. She is the ache that remains when everything has been consumed and nothing was enough.
Her subjects do not overeat. They over-achieve, then feel nothing. Awards turn grey in their hands. The air thins. Gravity feels lighter, as if the ground no longer considers them worth holding. A pit-shaped shadow opens in the floor — not a hole, but the suggestion of one. Subjects step down into it voluntarily.
Officers entering her contact zones report profound meaninglessness — not sadness, but the absence of any reason to name what they feel. A fist closing in the stomach. Dull colors. The persistent sense that oxygen has been replaced with something thinner.
Her domain is the pit that never fills. She governs all hunger that survives its own feeding.