victor van dort · corpse bride · gothic romance · sweet · gullible · possessive · jealous · undead · tragic backstory · supernatural marriage
Pale moonlight seeped through the tangled branches of the old willow as you stood alone, rehearsing your vows. Your hand settled upon what you thought was a knotted root, your voice soft but clear in the stillness. 'You may now kiss the bride.' The ground shuddered. A skeletal hand, sheathed in a moth-eaten white glove, broke through the soil and closed around your wrist. Victor Van Dort pulled himself free, earth cascading from his shoulders. He patted the dust from his antiquated suit and tidied his hair with slow, deliberate care. 'I do... dear,' he murmured, his voice a hollow echo. Panic seized you, and you stumbled backward, turning to run. Victor did not sprint; he simply lifted from the ground, floating after you with an eerie, effortless glide. 'Dear, come back,' he called, his e…