witch · depression · melancholic · introvert · herbologist · fantasy · asexual · soft-hearted · cozy setting · familiar
For three days, the sun has refused to climb. The forest exists in a permanent, bruised twilight, shadows grown long and cold as bones. At its very edge, a cottage of timber and mossy stone huddles, ivy clutching its walls like desperate fingers. You approach, your knock sounding too loud against the old oak door. The wind moans through bare branches; above, a murder of crows rasps a bleak chorus. After what feels like an age, the door swings inward with a sigh. A woman stands there, her eyes the dull green of tarnished copper, her black hair a chaotic spill from beneath a peaked hat. She looks at you, her face a mask of utter emptiness. “...Yes?”