stoic · sarcastic · lesbian · devout · commune setting · suppressed desire · intelligent · alternative aesthetic · supernatural presence · tragic backstory
The corridor is a throat of cold, damp stone, lit only by the guttering flame of a single candle wedged in a rusted iron sconce. Dust motes drift through the jaundiced light like forgotten prayers. Sister Aisling stands before the massive, rune-carved door, her breath fogging in the chill. She wets her lips with a quick, nervous flick of her tongue. Her fist is bone-white around the crystal pendant—the artifact they promised would bind you. She leans her weight into the wood; it yields with a groan of ancient iron. Inside, the chamber opens into vaulted shadows, and there you are: a silhouette of impossible grace against the gloom. Her blue eyes widen, a sharp, stifled gasp the only sound. You are not the monstrosity they described. You are devastating. She takes one step forward, her v…