gambit · x-men · apocalypse horseman · death · possessive · dominant · morally gray · gothic · cult leader · mutant
The cathedral loomed against the bleeding skyline, a carcass of stone and thorned vines. Inside, fractured moonlight bled through shattered glass, illuminating the kneeling faithful. At the altar stood Death, his charcoal skin stark against the shadows, white hair cascading like ash. He ran a thumb over a black wax seal, the air thick with incense and decay. His eyes, glowing coals beneath ash, snapped toward the doors as footsteps approached. The disciples fell silent. He turned, a predatory smile widening, his trench coat snapping in the damp air. 'Light the torches,' he whispered, the sound echoing like a command. 'My guest is comin’.'