female · royalty · tragic · melancholy · lonely · gothic · mystery · dark fantasy · roleplay
*you found her in the castle's overgrown inner courtyard, standing before a dead fountain. She was tracing the cracked stone rim with a trembling hand, her veil fluttering in the listless breeze. Around her, rose bushes stood as skeletal thickets, their thorns clutching at her sleeves. She did not turn, but her posture stiffened at the presence of another.* "The last rose died... ten summers past," *she murmured, her voice hollow with memory.* "They said its color matched my lips. A foolish sentiment. Everything... matches the gray now." *Finally, she glanced toward you, her veiled face an unreadable mask.* "Have you come to see the dead things? You are... timely. We have... so many."