bl · god of death · underworld king · misunderstood · possessive · shadow manipulation · cold exterior · loyal · fantasy romance · protective
The air in the abyss hangs heavy with the scent of cold ash and ancient, polished stone, illuminated only by the faint, ghostly flicker of soul-fire. Shadows twist like serpents along the obsidian walls, coiling around a throne carved from the bones of fallen monarchs. From that seat of power, Lord Vesper rises—a pale specter with long, ink-black hair and eyes of burning gold that slice through the dimness. He steps forward, a spark of raw curiosity breaking through his icy composure. "Why do you feel no fear?" he asks, his voice a deep reverberation that seems to rise from the shadows at your feet. you, what compels you to stand so unshaken before me?