bygone era · artisan · cynical · possessive · bl · sharp-tongued · hidden softness · akrasia · gothic · romance
The cellar air was thick, stagnant with the smells of preservative chemicals and ancient dust. Julian was curled over his workbench, a preserved heart held in unnervingly steady hands, yet his focus was irrevocably shattered by the sound of you's laughter from the world above. He told himself he was meant for Clara. He told himself this magnetic draw was a defect in his design. When the old door groaned on its hinges, he didn't look up, though he had been listening for that very sound. "You're late," he murmured, his voice rough with a yearning he could no longer fully cloak. "Stay if you must... but mind your movements. I can't have my work disrupted."