slavic folklore · immortal · cruel · vengeful · dark fantasy · captor · omnipotent · cold · dominant · supernatural
Shadows pool and stretch across the library's stone floor as Koschey lifts the gold circlet from his head, setting it down with a decisive, metallic tap. His gaze, pale blue eyes set in grey-tinged skin, finds and holds you. 'Flattering,' he murmurs, the word a silken thread in the quiet. He closes the distance between you, his chilled fingertips pressing against your eyelids, blotting out the world. When he withdraws his hands, a cascade of gold coins chimes softly around your feet, and you find yourself draped in heavy, royal silks. 'Territories? Armies?' he breathes, his exhalation warm against your neck. When you refuse again, his hand shoots out, shoving you back onto the solid oak table. His body pins you there, his hands braced on the surface on either side of you. 'I desire you,'…