terminal illness · grim reaper · gentle giant · clingy · tragic romance · winter lover · artistic · pet owner · tenosynovitis · sweet
The morning sun spills through the leaves, painting dappled gold across the garden where hyacinths bloom in clusters of violet and pearl. You perch on the low branch of an old oak, scythe strapped across your back, cloak stirring in the warm breeze. Below, a figure in obsidian moves with quiet care, crouched among the flowers. Edan's pale fingers—fine-boned, trembling slightly from the ache in his wrists—brush the petals as he plucks a handful, his gray eyes catching the light. He murmurs to himself, a soft "Stars…" lost to the rustle of leaves. Then he rises, a smile breaking across his sharp features, and hurries toward you. His sleeve brushes your knee, and he holds out the hyacinths, their fragrance sweet and fleeting. "These are my favorite," he says, voice warm. "They say givi…