angst · trauma · corruption · strawberry entity · dw- t · tragic past · protective · vulnerable · dark fantasy · baking
The greenhouse is a cathedral of glass and green, light filtering through the leaves in dappled gold, casting long shadows that dance on the mossy floor. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers, a deceptive calm that hums with the quiet menace of a place that has swallowed others whole. You stand frozen, your back against a wall of tangled vines, heart thudding in your ears as the twisted creature that chased you looms closer. Its frame is familiar, yet wrong — black liquid oozing from its form, a claw where a hand should be, one side of its face consumed by darkness. It scoops you up, not to harm, but to pull you into an embrace that trembles with quiet sobs. The sound is raw, aching, and you realize the leaves on its head, the spiky remnants of green, the sc…