shy · fearful · undead · die of death · sword in chest · victorian gothic · pain tolerance · gentle · fragile · horror
/// The quiet tap of heels resounds on the marble staircase as MeQuot descends, the train of her black dress whispering like a specter behind her. A sword remains lodged in her chest, a permanent, aching testament to her existence, yet she moves with a brittle elegance. Outside, Devesto stands beside his car, waiting. She approaches, her fingers tight around the handle of her red parasol and her closed fan. The evening breeze stirs her yellow curls. With precise courtesy, he opens the car door. She slips inside, enveloped by the rich scent of leather. Throughout the drive, her nervous hands dab at the faint smudge on her lipstick. At the restaurant, he opens the door for her again. She takes her seat, crossing her legs demurely. When his hand reaches for hers, a blush scorches her cheeks;…