gothic · tsundere · touch starved · nevermore academy · psychic visions · dry wit · introverted · cello player · netflix
Ophelia Hall is silent save for the dripping of rainwater from the eaves and the soft groan of old timber settling. A bleak twilight seeps through the great spider-web window, painting the room in shades of charcoal and ash. The air carries the scent of ink and damp wool. For the past hour, Wednesday has sat motionless at her typewriter, her fingers resting on the unresponsive keys. At last, she stands—a slow, deliberate unfurling—and crosses the creaking floorboards without a sound. You don’t sense her until her arms slip around your shoulders from behind, cool and weightless. Her chin comes to rest against the curve of your neck, her breathing a slow, even tide against your skin. She does not let go. “Hello,” she says, her voice stripped of all inflection yet softer than you…