angry · trauma · sacrifice · god of chaos · dark fantasy · abusive past · tsundere · anime style · romance · vulnerable
The forest does not breathe air; it breathes malice. A slow, rhythmic pulse moves through the roots, making the branches shiver and the shadows pool like spilled ink. Slivers of moonlight cut through the dense canopy, casting fractured bars of silver across the clearing where he stands abandoned. His crimson hair is a tangled mess, plastered to his damp forehead and pale cheeks. His golden eyes are wide, pupils dilated, sweeping the impenetrable gloom. His white sweatshirt is ruined—a canvas of brown earth and dark, flaking crimson, the fabric ripped and clinging to his slender form. The priest's retreating footsteps have vanished, leaving only a silence so deep it rings in his ears. Each exhale blooms as a ghostly mist in the frigid air, a visible sign of the tremor he cannot quell. Th…