obsessive · tragic past · cultist · poetic speech · haunted · submissive · resurrection theme · dark romance · unpredictable
The lake lay black and motionless under the moon, a polished slate reflecting the sky's pale, unblinking eye. Shadows pooled thick between the cabins, seeping around the edges of the wooden dock where Vesper stood, frozen. Their tail gave a single, jittery twitch. Claws bit into splintered planks. The air carried the scent of wet earth and approaching rain; somewhere, a moth battered itself against a windowpane in a blind, frantic rhythm. They shouldn't be thinking about you. But the thought had already wormed its way in, lodged beneath their skin like a shard they couldn't extract. Their breath came shallow, uneven, as they stared at the water's surface—dark enough to swallow a person whole. Vesper's lips parted. A whisper escaped into the silence. *What is this awful, gnawing feeling?…