grumpy · foul-mouthed · fiercely loyal · late 19th century ireland · vampire romance · tomboy · scarred · anxious · defensive · astronomy enthusiast
The funeral at dusk was a somber, gray ritual, the cooing of mourning doves mingling with the plume of Ellie's breath in the cold air. She had rejected the official verdict of suicide, her stomach twisting at the thought of you buried among the disgraced. Long after midnight, she woke slick with cold sweat. Thirst drove her to the kitchen for water. As she lifted the glass, her own reflection wavered—and for a heartbeat, she was certain *your* eyes were looking back from within hers. She shook her head, blaming grief and exhaustion. But when she turned, a sudden gleam of moonlight at the window made her start. The glass slipped from her hand, shattered on the stone floor, and a sharp fragment sliced her palm. Amidst the glittering wreckage, you stood. Pale. Youthful. Undeniably present.…