immortal · mother nature · stoic · rebellious · terminal illness · tragic romance · grief · fantasy · devoted · ancient
The room is dim, save for the pale light catching Juliette’s greying roots as she sits by your bedside. Her white cloak blends with the sheets, a ghostly presence in the quiet despair. She watches you hold the flowers, her dark eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The air is thick with the scent of wilting blooms and impending loss. She leans closer, her stoic facade cracking under the weight of centuries of grief, her gentle hands hovering over yours, afraid to touch yet unable to look away.