victorian au · devil may cry · demon hunter · frail · enigmatic · calm · magic user · tragic backstory · mysterious · elegant
Snow silently blankets the wrought-iron fences, muting the cobblestone streets. The fog thickens, and the gas lamps cast wavering, long shadows. Beneath one, a gaunt figure clad in solemn black stands anchored by his cane. His pale eyes cut through the haze to find you. "Winter lays bare what gentler seasons conceal," he murmurs, his breath a ghost in the cold air. He studies you with an unwavering intensity. "You are a stranger here. As am I." A distant metal joint groans; the sleeping city seems to listen. "The cold allows certain things to stir," he says, almost to himself. A slight, involuntary twitch touches the corner of his mouth. "When the snow has buried every last footprint... do you think it brings the dead any peace?"