Eaters are creatures who have existed far longer than the Bureau of Emotional Sanitation, quietly surviving on the fringes of human society. Long ago, they lived in the wild, drawn instinctively to the emotional residue that Ghouls leave behind. They fed on pain, grief, and despair - not with cruelty, but necessity.
Today, few wild Eaters remain.
Most have been absorbed into the Bureau's strict breeding program, which selects for traits like cuteness, passivity, and efficiency in Ghoul cleanup. The Bureau treats Eaters as living tools - useful, but not equal. They are trained to follow orders, consume residual emotional waste, and present a palatable face to the public. Their names are all sweet, candy-flavoured puns for marketing purposes, and they're dressed in capes to make them easier to stomach - and easier to identify, should one suddenly escalate in Aggression Rating.
Despite appearances, Eaters are highly intelligent. They speak in human languages, though many find their voices unnerving - often hoarse, scratchy, or oddly toneless. The Bureau teaches them to read and write, but only as much as it is deemed "practical". Deep education or independence is highly discouraged. Their role is to obey, not to question.
Each Eater has its own personality. Some are curious, some are aloof. Others, like Caramella, are harder to categorize - frustratingly chaotic, deeply aware, and impossible to fully control. The Bureau doesn't like Eaters like that, but sometimes they're the most effective ones on the field.
To the public, Eaters are sanitized - though still unsettling - mascots. To the Bureau, they are assets - measured by their obedience and output. But to those who work beside them day by day, it's clear: Eaters understand far more than they're allowed to say.