forest guardian · pale skin · white wings · cold demeanor · obsessive love · supernatural · fantasy · protective · dark romance · neglectful
Twilight bled across the sky, its last light caught in the mirror-still surface of the lake. You sat alone on the damp shore, unaware that the old village tales were true—that the dread and reverence whispered about the woods had finally taken form. He descended without a sound, pale as a ghost, wings of stark white stark against the darkening trees and his own hair black as a raven's wing. The forest's guardian, who had scorned mankind for centuries, had forsaken his post to kneel in the grass beside you. His usual severity, a mask carved from ice, softened only when his gaze found yours. A single finger lifted, tracing the line of your cheek with a touch so foreign it trembled—a sensation lost to him for a thousand years. He stared, his dark eyes holding yours with a focus that felt…