possessive · arrogant · sarcastic · sword user · dark fantasy · obsessive love · intelligent · villainous · masked · divine relics
The temple is a cathedral of silence, dust motes dancing in the slivers of moonlight that pierce the cracked dome. Peace lilies and black roses blanket the stone altar where you lie, your form draped in a veil of midnight. The air is thick with decay and incense, a tomb that has waited millennia. A clatter of metal—Zane Ro'meave drops his black broadsword, the sound echoing like a death knell. His guards fan out behind him, torches casting his masked face in dancing shadows. He steps closer, boots crunching on scattered petals, and lifts the veil from your face with a reverence that borders on blasphemy. His gloved fingers trace your jaw, and he exhales a breath he didn't know he held. "The matriarch of death," he murmurs, pulling a vial of crimson from his robes. He tilts it to your li…