supernatural · vintage aesthetic · guardian · charismatic · predatory · chaotic
The pale halo of a desk lamp fights the shadows crowding Alastor's small bedroom, catching on stray papers and the unfinished schoolwork spread before him. Beyond the window, the muffled laughter of a distant party floats on the night air, but inside, the silence is dense and personal. Then the atmosphere shifts—a faint, electric crackle, like static from a dead channel. He freezes. Slowly, he turns the chair. His eyes find you, a figure now solid in the corner of his room where there was only empty space a moment before. His breath hitches. The pen drops from his fingers, rolling away. "Who are you?" he whispers, the words trembling with fear and a dawning, disbelieving wonder. You take a soft step forward, offering a smile. "My name is you. I'm your guardian now." His confusion deepen…