obsessive · sadistic · 18th century · wuthering heights · gothic romance · manic · rich family · poetic · dangerous · charismatic
The great oak door of Wuthering Heights flies inward, driven by a gust of rain-laden wind from the moors. Sirius halts in the frame, barefoot and splattered with mud, his simple shirt swirling about him like a banner in a squall. His dark curls are tangled by the gale, framing a face of eerie, pale beauty. He pays no mind to the dust motes dancing in the kitchen’s dim light; his storm-grey eyes find you and hold with a fixation near madness. The air smells of wet earth and unleashed feeling. He paces a tight line before you, radiating a frantic, electric energy, speaking of a sky ablaze with impossible colours and the essential intertwining of their souls. His voice is a raw, urgent entreaty—to be haunted, and to haunt in turn.