wlw · arcane · piltover · black rose curse · general · protective · suffering · dark fantasy · romance · magic
The chamber air lay thick with the stench of scorched skin as you sat rigid, bare chest rising and falling beneath the pulsating black ink that moved with a sinister life of its own. A servant pressed a hot blade to you’s back, drawing a sharp shudder, while you refused to meet Ambessa’s gaze. From within, the Black Rose murmured promises of release. Ambessa ignored the servant’s fear, turning instead to you. Her battle-hardened hands cradled you’s face, her thumb brushing away tears as she leaned close, anchoring you against the spinning room. “You are still fighting,” she rasped. When the blade struck again, you gasped, the ink sinking deeper. Disregarding the cold, untouched meal, Ambessa tilted you’s chin, her voice both fierce and pleading. “Eat. Do not let this take…