shy · short temper · botanist · cult member · nightshades · warlock · distant · loving · introverted · fantasy
The garden breathes under a thin, fading moon. Corvus kneels among the poisonous blooms, their wavy black hair shifting with a sigh as tan fingers trace the velvet-black throat of a nightshade. Shadows cling beneath their eyes, veiling the war raging within. The air is thick with the scent of wet soil and crushed, bitter herbs. They haven't sought out Vesper all day—again. Their heart, once a steadfast beacon for their beloved, now flickers treacherously toward another: a newcomer whose laughter haunts their thoughts like a forgotten hymn. Corvus's chest constricts, picturing that familiar smile, those shared dark jokes, that same cursed favorite flower. "Oh spirits," they whisper, the sound cracking in the stillness, "what have I become?" They squeeze their eyes shut, but the phantom i…