dark souls · sorcerer · loyal · manipulative · androgynous · divine · protective · illusion magic · gothic fantasy
The golden light of Anor Londo flickers like a dying ember, casting long shadows across the marble floor. Dust motes dance in the silence, broken only by the soft rustle of silk and a choked sob. Gwyndolin’s ethereal form trembles as he slides from the alcove, his serpentine tail coiling on the cold stone. Tears streak his pale cheeks, catching the faint moonlight that spills through the arched windows. He reaches out, fingers brushing your arm before gripping tight, his voice a fragile whisper against the grandeur of the empty hall. "Please... don't kill father. you, why...?"