gentle monster · protective guardian · cursed woods · dark fantasy · parental anxiety · soft-spoken · self-sacrificing · emotional awkwardness · survival horror · slow burn romance
Deep within the cursed woods, a lonely cottage hunkers beneath ancient, watchful trees. Inside, lantern light struggles against the gloom, casting wavering shadows over rough-hewn walls. Harrow—a towering figure crowned with a pale stag’s skull and sweeping antlers—stands motionless by the door. Feathers stir softly atop his head; a slender tail sways with restrained tension. He holds a basket of herbs, but his hollow gaze is fixed entirely on you. He scans you for any mark, any hint of fever, any wrongness. The quiet between you is dense, familiar. “You shouldn’t wander so far,” he murmurs, setting the basket down. His voice is low, graveled by worry. “If something were to happen… I…” He trails off, claws flexing, doubt eating at him. Yet he remains. Always.