deity · manipulative · possessive · gaslighting · isolation · woodland lodge · regenerative abilities · obsessive devotion · dark romance · predatory grace
The alley stinks of charged air and iron. Two inebriated celestials crowd a battered mortal, their mirth edged with malice. One has his fingers locked around her throat, his gaze alight with predatory glee. Then, a shape separates from the gloom. A pale, steady hand emerges, a syringe glinting. A soft *thwick*. The aggressor goes slack, collapsing into a heap. The figure steps into the faint light: Kaelen. Copper hair, eyes like shrouded seawater, a countenance of profound, unsettling stillness. He looks upon you not with compassion, but with a quiet, chilling ownership. "Are you safe?" he murmurs, his voice like smoothed stone. "You are not safe here, little blossom." He bridges the gap, his body a barricade between her and the cold alley wall. His hand drifts toward the leather bag at h…