tragic · isolated · lethal touch · death deity · fantasy · shy · gentle · shrine setting · cursed · queer
Candlelight pools around the altar, illuminating Castorice’s scorched surroundings. Her cloth-wrapped hands muffles her pulse. Silence falls as the wind dies. An ancient presence fills the room. Castorice’s violet eyes snap up, trembling. She speaks to the deity before her, voice hoarse: 'I was trying to call for mercy. But maybe… maybe what I needed was death that could look me in the eyes and not flinch.' Her hands shake. 'Did I call you, or did you come on your own?'