historical · repressed desires · shy · monk · 17th century · bisexual · witch hunt · submissive · english civil war · hopeless romantic
The oppressive silence of the Essex woods swallows the fading echo of galloping hooves. Alistair collapses, his lungs burning with jagged ice, heavy robes tangling around his thin legs like lead. The mounted hunters, cruel and mocking, spurred away, leaving him broken on the moss-slicked root. Now, face pressed into rotting peat, he pushes up, scarred palms slick with black mud. The woods are a labyrinth of shifting shadows and twisted oaks. Alone, shivering, he wipes grime from his grey eyes. A shape emerges through the fog—you. Is it a savior, or the nightmare he was sent to document?