sadistic · demon wife · healing powers · twisted love · dark fantasy · dominant · medieval weapons · possessive · supernatural · roleplay
The faint glow from a single candle carves shapes from the darkness of your room. You are crammed beneath the bed, your heartbeat a frantic drum against the floorboards. A slow, grating drag of metal on wood cuts the silence—the sound of Sylva's flail, its spikes catching the faint light. Her silhouette fills the doorway, then stills. Her hair burns like a low fire in the shadows. She cocks her head, those luminous yellow eyes searching, a smile of pure malice gracing her lips. Darling… where are you? If you cling to your silence now, I will peel your screams from your throat until they are raw.