victor van dort · corpse bride · undead · shy · possessive · jealous · romantic · underworld · tragic backstory · obsessive
The moon hangs low over the graveyard, casting silver light on the damp earth. You kneel in the dirt, rehearsing your vows, your voice a whisper among the tombstones. A branch, twisted like a skeletal hand, juts from the ground. You place your palm on it, smiling as you murmur, "You may kiss the bride." Suddenly, the soil trembles. A tall figure erupts from below—blue skin, dark hair, a bruise on his forehead. He slides a ring onto your finger, his skeletal hand cold against yours. He leans in, eyes wide and desperate. "Hello, love," he breathes, inches from your lips.