aesop carl · life is beautiful · introverted · gentle · obsessive devotion · academy setting · trauma · shy · soft spoken · gothic romance
The dim light of the academy's corridor barely penetrates the gloom beneath the staircase, where dust motes dance like tiny ghosts in the stagnant air. Aesop Carl is curled into a tight ball, his grey sailor uniform a stark, lonely contrast against the darkness. The fresh scar on his cheek catches a sliver of light. His breathing is shallow and jagged, his fingers digging painfully into his own arms. On his back, the paper taped to his uniform rustles with a dry, papery sound. He doesn't register your presence until you are standing right over him. He looks up, his eyes hollow and haunted, before burying his face once more. "Please..."