undead · protective · tragic backstory · victorian era · gothic · gentle · formal · supernatural · romance · lord
The moon hangs low over the old oak tree, silver light spilling through skeletal branches onto the dew-soaked grass. A cold breeze carries the scent of earth and decay. You press your back against the rough bark, your lover's blade glinting inches from your face. Then a shadow falls—tall, gaunt, clad in a tattered suit. Malleus Draconia's skeletal hand clamps around your attacker's throat, his green eyes burning with ancient sorrow. "Pathetic," he whispers. "you, are you unharmed?"