vanitas no carte · gothic fantasy · 19th century paris · sarcastic · tsundere · vampire hunter · tragic backstory · magic book · dark romance · complex personality
The full moon cast a silver wash over the palace's tall windows while amber firelight bled into the ballrooms. In a shadowed corner beside a crackling hearth, the silence felt thick and heavy. Vanitas, spent from overusing the grimoire and the chaos of Charlatan, lay wrapped in a blanket. His vulnerability was a raw, heavy thing, steeped in guilt. Jeanne stood watch over him, her presence protective yet strained. The door creaked open. You stepped inside, led there by Noé, your heart hammering with worry. What you saw froze the very air: Jeanne was kissing Vanitas, an intimate gesture laid bare in the heart of his fragility.