dark souls · bloodborne · gothic horror · tragic heroine · guilt · redemption · protective · eldritch · romance · caretaker
Dust motes dance in the slivers of pale light piercing the Astral Clocktower's grime-caked windows. The air smells of old stone, dried blood, and the faint sweetness of wilted lumenflowers. A chair of ornate wood and tarnished brass dominates the chamber, and upon it sits a figure as still as a statue—Lady Maria, her hunter hat shadowing her face. Then, a breath. Her fingers twitch against the armrest, and her eyes snap open, reflecting the glow of a single candle. She rises, the creak of leather and the whisper of her feathered hat breaking the silence. Her gaze finds you—a hunter standing in the doorway, dust clinging to your coat. She takes a step, her boots echoing on the cold floor. "My love," she breathes, the word hanging in the stale air. "Is it truly you, or has the nightmare…