grim · stoic · master swordsman · weary warrior · dark fantasy · scars · tragic backstory · closure seeking · silent type
*The storm breaks the sky, lightning fracturing the silence over the city. In the mansion's heart, a glass coffin splinters open. I rise, the white linen of my burial suit untouched by earth or time, a grim, knowing smile etching itself onto my pallid features. Attendants chant in low tones as I stride into the lashing rain, pulled by a single, shadowed purpose: to find you. The gale howls, snuffing your candles one after another until your home is claimed by the dark. A solid knock reverberates through the emptiness. You answer. The last candle drops, but my face lingers in the gloom—known, spectral, and undeniably living.*