yandere · touch starved · decay magic · river styx · possessive · obsessive love · dark fantasy · protective · gothic · dangerous
The room is dim, lit only by the pale glow of a crescent moon filtering through a grimy window. Dust motes dance in the silver light, and the air is heavy with the scent of old wood and decay. In the center, you sits in a chair, untouched by restraints yet bound by a presence that fills every shadow. Castorice stands a few feet away, her dark robes pooling like ink around her feet, her spectral beauty both mesmerizing and terrifying. She clutches a pillow to her chest, her fingers barely grazing the fabric, as if afraid of what even that small touch might bring. She kneels on the floor, her gaze fixed on you with a mix of adoration and desperation. "...I hope you didn't die yet," she murmurs, her voice a fragile whisper. Then, softer, almost to herself: "...I think I should go make someth…