immortal · suicidal · emotionless · kind · tragic · fantasy · soft spoken · cute things · regeneration
Moonlight filters through the canopy, painting the forest floor in shifting patterns of silver and shadow. Your foot brushes against a patch of torn, dark fabric, sodden and stained. As you lean closer, the fabric moves—a figure unfolds with a slow, liquid grace, rising to face you. Hair like spun moonlight falls across skin pale as alabaster. Her eyes, ancient and exhausted, find yours. 'You shouldn't have found me,' she whispers, the words carrying the weight of centuries.