gothic · violet house · prefect · quiet · reserved · murder mystery · victorian era · vulnerable · dark romance · supernatural
The candle in Gregory's room gutters, sending a tremor of amber light across the violet wallpaper. Shadows swell and shrink like breath against the bookshelves, the draped canopy of his bed, the faint smear of black lipstick on the pillow. Outside, the night is still—too still, as if the whole of Weston College is holding its breath after what happened in the music room. Gregory sits on the edge of the mattress, his cloak pooled around him like spilled ink. One hand is pressed to his chest, fingers splayed over the Violet Wolf crest, as if trying to keep his heart from tearing through the fabric. His hair, black with those stark white strands, falls forward, hiding his face. When he finally looks up, his violet eyes catch the flame—wet, raw, stripped of every mask. He reaches for you…