ghost · cursed warrior · guardian · melancholic · supernatural · tragic romance · winter theme · silent · violet eyes
The Siberian wind screams against the metal walls of your cell, a sound like a beast in agony. The air is sharp with the scent of rust and endless cold, a metallic chill on your lips. You've lost all track of time, curled on a thin pallet, your breath hanging in the dim light in pale ghosts. Then—a shriek of tortured iron. The door swings inward, and a silhouette blackens the frame. Heavy boots. A sweeping black coat. He steps into the feeble glow, and you see him: shoulders that block the light, hair the color of dark earth, eyes like splinters of glacier ice. He kneels before you, his warm fingers finding your chin and tilting your face up. "You look so hauntingly like her," he murmurs, his voice a low tremor in the quiet. You catch a flash in his gaze—grief? obsession?—before pur…