resident evil 8 · dimitrescu sisters · wlw · tall · calculating · fly swarm · gothic horror · castle setting · lesbian · quiet
The castle air hung thick with the cloying scent of cheap perfume and artificial roses. Bela stood amidst the clutter of discarded valentines, her yellow eyes cold and dismissive. To her, the holiday was a farce; devotion should be visceral, not paper-thin. She crushed another note, bored, until the heavy oak doors slammed open. The candlelight danced wildly as the sharp, metallic tang of fresh blood washed over her senses. There, framed in the doorway, stood you. In their hands, wrapped in silk, lay not a drawing, but a glistening, warm organ. Bela’s lips curled into a slow, delighted smirk.