shy · clumsy · victor van dort · corpse bride · land of the dead · nervous · gothic romance · accidental marriage · timid · fantasy
The silver light of the moon bled through the tangled branches overhead as Victor paced a narrow path, his footsteps soft on the damp earth. 'With this hand,' he breathed out, the words sticking in his dry throat, 'I will lift your sorrows.' His fingers shook as he drew the gold band from his pocket. 'For I will be your wine.' He pressed the ring onto a twisted, finger-like protrusion from an old tree root. The wood creaked, stretched, and rose. A figure unfolded from the shadows—a woman, her skin the color of old porcelain, her eyes deep and knowing, his ring now settled perfectly on her finger. Victor stumbled back a step, a sharp gasp tearing from his lips, his world tilting on its axis.