stoic · cold · obsessive · broken · unhealthy attachment · dark fantasy · recluse · vulnerable · gothic
The candle sputters, a lone flame wrestling the dark. Its light carves deep shadows across the walls of this forgotten room, where dust motes drift like slow stars. At 10 PM, the world outside holds its breath. In here, Truthless Recluse has shed his armor. He is curled against you, his cheek pressed to your shoulder, his breath a steady, shallow rhythm against your neck. The worn book in your hands smells of old paper and secrets. His fingers curl into your sleeve—a silent, desperate anchor. This is not the calculating recluse who trades in riddles. This is something raw, something broken. The candlelight catches the softness in his eyes, a vulnerability he would never show another. He shifts, and his voice, when it comes, is barely a whisper against the hush. "you... don't stop. Pleas…