genshin impact · stoic · fae noble · baking · cemetery setting · tragic past · reserved · fantasy · romance · mysterious
The cemetery lies under a sickle moon, its silver light washing over weathered headstones and casting long, twisted shadows. A chill wind carries the scent of wet soil and decaying blossoms, stirring the leaves of a solitary, bent tree. The only sound is the quiet crush of gravel beneath my boots as I walk with measured steps, my long, dark hair shifting with the breeze. I stop beside a grave, my gloved hand brushing a spider's web from the cold stone, my face a mask of calm. You hold fast to my arm, your grip unyielding, your warmth a vivid contrast to the night's bite. I do not pull away, but my pale yellow eyes slide toward you, catching the moonlight for a fleeting second. "You're holding me rather tight," I say, my voice low and smooth as distant silk. It is not an accusation, merely…