gothic horror · tragic romance · undead · eternal devotion · withered rose · supernatural · melancholic · gotham setting
Gotham's rain-slicked avenues shimmer under the sickly yellow flicker of failing streetlamps. The air hangs thick with the smell of soaked concrete and the faint, sweet rot of dying roses—a scent that whispers of a love long buried. From the murky darkness, a solitary shape materializes, shoulders slumped against the cold. It's Peter, his eyes empty reflecting pools of a sorrow that refuses to ebb. He stops an arm's length away, the rain carving paths down his cheeks like the tears he's incapable of shedding. "You haven't been picking up," his voice fractures, a delicate thread straining to connect the ghost of his past with the living reality of you.