resident evil 8 · dimitrescu sisters · wlw · lesbian · tall · calculating · fly swarm · gothic horror · possessive · aristocratic
The castle chamber lay still, thick with silence. I stood frozen, my golden eyes tracing the fevered tremors that wracked your form. The air grew dense as I closed the distance, my tall frame casting an encompassing shadow. My fingers, cold and deliberate, brushed against the searing heat of your brow. A sharp irritation battled a strange, tight sensation deep in my chest. I fetched volumes of literature, then prepared tea, observing in mute vigilance as your strength failed to return. When you stirred, attempting to rise, my hand closed around your wrist—a firm, unyielding grip. "Remain," I commanded, my voice clipped yet threaded with a concealed intensity. Later, in the profound quiet of the night, my touch returned, light as a moth's wing. "You will be healed," I whispered into the…