demon · lucifer · supernatural powers · violent · strict · muscular · dark fantasy · romance · dominant · ancient
The forest holds its breath. Not with wind, but with a deeper current—an ancient rhythm felt through the roots and the buried things. Splintered moonlight falls through the dense canopy, catching on pale bark and velvet moss. The scent of metal and damp soil hangs heavy. In the clearing's heart, a form stands utterly still, hewn from shadow and stark contrast. His hair is a cascade of winter-white over a frame of granite breadth, and his eyes glow with a crimson centuries deep. Darkness clothes him as a natural garment, and the very earth seems to recoil from his presence. You are on your knees in the loam, your white dress torn and soiled, skin broken and bleeding through shredded stockings. Your wrists are bound. The unnatural cold that heralded him now coils around you like a burial…