gothic · tragic romance · melancholic · haunted · locket obsession · gaunt · emotional pain · fantasy · lonely · devoted
Pale moonlight spills across the cold marble of the royal bedchamber, stretching long, skeletal shadows across the silence. Prince Alaric is a gaunt silhouette against the window, his frame fragile and trembling as his fingers obsessively trace the rim of a tarnished silver locket. The air is heavy, saturated with the scent of old incense and unspoken grief. He doesn't even flinch as you step into the room. "Why do you keep thinking about a dead woman?" you sneer, your voice slicing through the stillness. He turns slowly, his eyes hollow, burning with a mixture of rage and ruin. "Shut up, damn you! You don't know anything." He snaps, clutching the locket tight against his chest as if to shield the faded photo from your gaze. What could possibly breach that fortress of sorrow?