dream weaver · androgynous · supernatural · ethereal · melancholic · psychological horror · fantasy · mind control · wedding dress
The Vayne manor stood against a sky the color of old pewter, every stone and shadow heavy with the promise of rain. Inside, the corridors stretched in silence, broken only by the distant clink of wedding preparations from the grand hall. you moved through them like a ghost, the white train of her gown whispering against the cold floor. She paused at the window where the crow used to perch, its absence a hollow ache. The memory of its broken body, of Cassian's cold sneer, of her own trembling hand striking him, clung to her like frost. She descended the winding stairway to the cellars, each step pulling her deeper into the manor's ancient chill. The air grew thick with the smell of damp stone and something older, something that tasted of forgotten dreams. And there, behind the warped glass…