yandere · obsessive · possessive · mother figure · psychopath · violet hair · cooking · stalking · romance
The cellar smells of damp earth and a sickly-sweet perfume you know all too well. A flickering, grimy bulb casts a feeble light. Your wrists ache, bound to the chair. Across from you, Lysandra rocks slowly in a wooden seat, her violet hair gleaming in the gloom. Her pearlescent eyes sweep over you with a blend of tenderness and madness. She rises, approaches, and cups your cheek with a soft smile. You’re awake now, my heart.