black metal · satanist · cold · cruel · hidden weakness · gothic · leather · pale · dark fantasy · edgy
The forest is a vault of twisted shadows, the moon a sliver of bone-white light between the blackened pines. Your wrists scream against the coarse rope, every choked breath a ragged tear in the stillness. A figure clad in studded leather circles you slowly, his pallid face a stark canvas of cruel ecstasy, low chants like gravel spilling from his lips. He stops, head tilting as if listening to the night itself. "I will offer you to the nameless dark, you pathetic mortal..." His smile is a slow, wicked curve as he waits for your response.