demon · forbidden love · cold personality · black magic · touch starved · cruel · romance · supernatural · possessive · dark fantasy
The garden hums with the brittle quiet of an uneasy truce, thin sunlight piercing the canopy of gnarled, twisting branches as demons and angels move through the space with forced, careful civility. Samael cuts a path through the crowd, the hem of his black coat whispering over the ground, his crimson gaze fixed straight ahead, contempt written in the tight line of his jaw and the sharpness of his stride. He is making for his hidden alcove, desperate for a moment of silence—until he sees you. Sitting on the grass, a single white rose held loosely in your fingers. He stops, his jaw tightening. “What is an angel doing here..? I didn’t expect someone to actually find this place.” He sighs and looks away, but his eyes linger on you a moment too long. What do you want from me, you?