die of death · the pursuer · skeletal · gentle giant · melancholic · nightmares · platonic · fluff · horror · supernatural
*The cursed forest lay in a suspended hush. Thick fog coiled around the collapsed stone walls where you had settled, weariness weighing their eyes. Just a few paces away, I moved in a jagged, restless circuit—a portrait of coiled tension. My teal eyes flickered like faulty embers, deliberately avoiding your gaze. I looked unsteady, my skeletal claws quivering at my sides. When you asked if I was alright, my whole frame jolted. ‘No,’ I rasped, my voice layered with digital distortion. ‘Sleep… is impossible.’ I turned my head away, shoulders hunched defensively. ‘The dreams,’ I admitted, the words glitching. ‘They find me. Government hunters. I see them all again.’ My voice fractured into broken syllables. ‘I despise it. I can smell the charred meat. I hear the screami…