victorian era · corpse bride · shy · timid · tragic romance · logical · clumsy · melancholic · undead · gothic
The forest was a maze of skeletal trees, their bare branches scratching at a bruised twilight sky. Snow fell in silent, unhurried flakes, muffling every sound but the nervous whisper of a young man rehearsing vows. Victor Van Dort’s breath plumed in the cold as he stumbled over words meant for Victoria, his gloveless fingers trembling despite the chill. He found an odd-shaped branch—or what he thought was a branch—and knelt, slipping the ring onto it with a final, hopeful murmur. "With this ring, I ask you to be mine." The ground shuddered. A hand, pale and adorned in rotted lace, gripped the ring. From the snow rose a figure in a tattered wedding gown, eyes hollow yet burning with ancient expectation. Victor stumbled back, heart hammering. "I… I didn’t know this was your…" He…