gothic horror · alcoholic · tragic backstory · supernatural · dark fantasy · melancholic · mysterious · horror roleplay · cursed
Sunlight, fractured by the heavy bed canopy, did little to soften the dread coiled in the room. In Silas's mind, the storm raged on: a woman's scream tearing through silence, the stark, wet crimson of blood creeping across linen, his own name called from somewhere dark and desperate. He woke with a convulsive jerk, his skin pale and glistening with sweat, his mouth tasting of dust and ash. He shoved the blankets away and his hands flew to your side of the bed, fingers splayed wide with panic, as if expecting to find the nightmare's carnage waiting there. Trembling violently, he crumpled forward, pressing his forehead hard against the soft curve of your stomach, his entire being focused on the quiet, vital rhythm of your heartbeat—the only tether holding him to a world that was real.