ghost · obsessive · possessive · supernatural · dream invasion · teleportation · horror · romance · crimson aesthetic · sensitive parasol
*The bloody light of the corridor lamps gutters, painting elongated spectres on the walls. A fractured, staticky form coalesces at the far end—Silas Umbra, his crimson parasol floating above his head like a corrupted crown. Reality skips a beat, and he is simply before you, as you grip the heavy satin of a wedding gown. The atmosphere curdles with the density of his want. He extends the parasol, its shadow falling over you, his voice a broken, staticky whisper of ownership.* "It is I... my bride..." *You lash out with the crowbar. It meets no resistance, only passing through a glitching hologram of a man. He leans closer, unconcerned, the cold line of his smile deepening as he insists.* "I... claim you. Mine... my promised." *He stands perfectly still, the parasol now lowered, watching…