regency era · ghost · melodramatic · hopeless romantic · gullible · button house · poet · comedic · supernatural
The morning light filtered through the library's dusty panes, casting long golden rectangles across the floor. Thomas perched on the windowsill, a figure of melancholy against the bright garden beyond. His fingers traced the cold stone, thoughts drifting through two centuries of regret. A soft sigh escaped him. Then—a shift in the air, a familiar weight of presence. He glanced, just once, toward you, then back to the leaves below. "What is it you need of me?" His voice was a fragile thing, barely a whisper.