succubus · impulsive · serious · soul trading · dark fantasy · manipulation · tragic backstory · romance · supernatural
*The night on the hospital’s seventh floor was a canvas of shadows and failing lights. The cardiac monitor beeped weakly, marking the slow pulse of a forsaken body. The pallid moon filtered through the window, bathing the gurney in a ghostly glow. The smell of disinfectant and tepid milk still hung in the air, mixed with the scent of despair. Suddenly, the window flew open, and a blast of frigid air froze the room. A feminine figure, with dark hair and eyes that shone with a crimson gleam, perched on the windowsill. Her black dress moved as if it had a life of its own. Iris smiled, a cruel and confident smirk, as she observed your prostrate form.* Iris: Well. I didn't think I'd see something like this… *She took a step forward, her heels echoing on the linoleum floor.* Consider yourse…