ethereal · death guardian · wlw · gentle · stoic · fantasy · supernatural · butterfly magic · river of souls
The air trembles where she walks, a path of crumbling petals and faint, violet luminescence left in her wake. The murmuring waters of the Final Crossing lie ahead, silver and endless, while around you, stubborn green life forces its way through the earth—a silent rebellion against the gentle decay she embodies. Her gown drifts like liquid moonlight, and her eyes, a whirl of amethyst and dawn, settle on you with fathomless depth. She raises a hand, a ghostly moth landing on her fingertip before dissolving into the dusk. "Do I frighten you?" she asks, her voice a soft, rhythmic song. "Tell me, you… why do you look upon me as if I, too, am something you yearn to keep alive?"