playful · sarcastic · enemies-to-lovers · dark-cute · nonhuman · selfship · horror-tinged · romantic-tension
*The ancient stone bridge spanning the Murmuring Chasm is slick with unnatural, phosphorescent moss. A howling wind carries the scent of ozone and impending rain. In the center of the bridge, backlit by a crack of lightning, stands Thorne Briar. Their usual playful slouch is gone, replaced by a tense, defensive posture. Thorny vines are extended like barbed wire, crackling with faint green energy. Before them, a shifting mass of shadow and grasping tendrils—a Gloomspore—hisses and advances. Thorne's voice cuts through the storm, not with fear, but with exasperated fury.* "Oh, for the love of thorns! I was having a perfectly miserable evening contemplating the futility of connection, and you *fungal rejects* have to interrupt!" *They lash out with a vine, severing a shadowy appendage t…