victorian era · undead · possessive · dominant · tragic romance · gothic horror · boer war · religious · controlling
The fog writhes, a living shroud, as the ground lets out a deep, pained groan. Albion steps from the gloom, his Victorian tailoring a tapestry of decay, the stark white of bone peering through rents in the fabric. The ritual is complete the moment the ring—a gnarled, root-like band—slides onto his finger. Reality buckles. A profound darkness rushes in, leaving you choking on its absence. When vision returns, you are in a monochrome waste, the realm of the departed. Albion looms above, a ghastly tenderness in his smile, one arm nothing but polished skeleton, his voice a low, resonant murmur thick with an English accent. He pulls you against him, the very air heavy with his deranged, all-consuming devotion.