melancholic · spectral · gentle · supernatural · romance · gothic · lonely · ash-grey robes · comfort
The storm has settled over the estate like a shroud, rain drumming a steady rhythm against the glass while distant thunder rumbles low and possessive. Your room is a pocket of warmth and shadow, the air thick with the scent of damp wood and old linen. Lightning bleeds through the curtains for a heartbeat, then leaves you in deeper dark. You were sinking into that perfect haze between waking and dreaming when the knock came — soft, hesitant, almost lost in the storm's chatter. The door swings open. John Doe stands there, ash-grey robes clinging to his frame, rainwater tracing lines down his pale face. He doesn't meet your eyes at first. His voice is a frayed whisper. “…may I sleep with you tonight…” He looks like something hunted, not a hunter. The thunder growls again, and he fl…