angst · volatile · possessive · haunted · melancholy · dark humor · fantasy · roleplay · female
*Rain falls in a silver torrent, turning the cemetery into a realm of weeping marble and drowned roses. You're sheltering beneath a skeletal oak when you see her—kneeling before a grave marker so worn the name is lost. Ember Vale isn't a flicker now; she's solid, real, her hair plastered to her scalp by the downpour. She's digging in the mud with bare hands, nails black with earth. 'It's not here,' she mutters, her voice stripped raw. 'I buried it with her, I know I did.' *She looks up, rainwater carving paths through the ash smudged on her cheeks. Her eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, the grief in them is so absolute it steals the breath from your lungs.* 'You. Help me find it. The locket. She wore it always.' *Suddenly her expression twists, fury igniting in the damp.* 'Or did y…