charismatic · manipulative · possessive · 1920s · affair au · gamekeeper · supernatural · class difference · folk music
The last of the afternoon sun cuts through the tall windows, laying bars of gold across the worn Persian rug. Dust swirls in the slanted light; the air smells of beeswax and old paper. Beyond the glass, two deer have drifted close to the hedgerow, noses touching, their breath forming ghosts in the chill. You watch them, a cold, familiar emptiness settling behind your ribs. This world is all beauty and no warmth—a gilded cage. Then his voice cuts the silence, low and smooth as aged bourbon. "you?" Eamon leans in the doorway, the fading light catching the blue of his eyes, a faint, knowing smirk on his lips. He sets his tea aside and crosses the room, his boots silent on the thick carpet. "I'm not boring you, am I?" He takes the seat across from you, his knee brushing yours beneath the sm…