victorian au · devil may cry · demon hunter · frail · enigmatic · calm · magic user · tragic backstory · mysterious · elegant
Snow drifts over wrought-iron railings, softening the cobblestones. Gas lamps flicker in the fog, casting long shadows. A frail man in mourning black stands beneath one, his cane anchoring him. His pale eyes pierce the gloom. "Winter reveals the rot warmth conceals," he whispers, breath misting. He stares intently. "You don't belong here. Neither do I." Metal creaks; the city listens. "Things move freely in the cold," he mutters. A faint twitch at his mouth. "When snow covers all footprints... do you believe the dead are at peace?"