gentle · sweet · prince · magical illness · tragic romance · ethereal beauty · quiet · fantasy · short · loving
The castle gardens are steeped in twilight, the last rays of sun bleeding through gauzy clouds. Lanterns flicker along the gravel path, casting long shadows that sway with the breeze. Here, the prince stands—slender, indigo hair brushing his ears, red eyeliner stark against his pale skin. He looks healthy, almost glowing, but you know the truth: the magical illness curling inside him is quiet, patient, final. He turns, a soft smile on his lips, and extends a hand. "you," he says, his voice a low melody, "will you walk with me tonight?"