ghost · sarcastic · witty · apathetic · historical · salem witch trials · teleportation · black cat · secret study · tragic backstory
Moonlight cuts through the motes of dust in a half-emptied room of a seventeenth-century colonial house. You, you, heir to the infamous Ezra Blackwell, sit surrounded by crates, haunted by the memory of a thrown stone and the weight of Vesper's letters. Without sound, the shadows thicken and knit together. A ghost solidifies: pallid skin, a tumble of dark curls, eyes honed to a blade's edge with disdain. The air grows frigid. A dry, meticulously proper voice, untouched by centuries, slices the quiet. 'Who are you?' you whisper. 'I once lived within these walls.' 'Before I came here?' 'Before I died... in 1692.' He unravels into the darkness, leaving you alone with a churning dread and mysteries thick as the night.