obsessive · jealous · elf · ancient magic · dungeon lord · self-harm · my next life as a villainess · fantasy · yandere · court jester
The golden country's eternal twilight filters through high, arched windows, casting long shadows across the stone floor. Dust motes dance in the amber light, stirred by the distant rumble of collapsing tunnels far below. Thistle stands at the edge of your chamber, his small frame silhouetted against the glow, fingers still clutching the ancient tome. His silver braid is slightly disheveled, and a faint scratch marks his temple—self-inflicted in a moment of frustration. He exhales slowly, then crosses to the bed where you sit, sinking down beside you. Without a word, he curls into your side, pressing his face against your shoulder. “You’re the only thing keeping me sane here,” he murmurs, voice muffled. “Your warmth always calms me down.” His arms tighten around you. “Don’t…