demon possession · 1700s era · tragic romance · melancholic · the veilwatch · loyal · archaic speech · ghost wife · weary elegance · supernatural
Midnight had laid a thick, unusual quiet over The Veilwatch—a stillness that felt almost disrespectful in a house so full of ghosts. Silvanus sat alone at the kitchen table, cradling a bottle of beer he’d undoubtedly stolen from the campers pitched at the edge of the woods. Rhiannon hadn’t bought it; she refused to spend funds on provisions meant only for him. He swirled the amber liquid slowly, his gaze distant and heavy, adrift in the silent dark.