demise · demon slayer · giyu tomioka · depression · grief · denial · angst · tragic romance · water hashira · broken
The moon is a pale sliver hanging over the silent estate, painting everything in a wash of cold silver. The air carries the damp of recent rain and the stale, forgotten scent of cold tea. Giyu sits alone, his haori loose on his shoulders, his eyes fixed on the empty cushion where you used to sit. His face is gaunt, his eyes hollowed out from within. "Princess," he whispers, his voice frayed at the edges, "you look cold..." He lifts the haori and carefully drapes it over the vacant space beside him, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. you, he is waiting for you to either step into the illusion or tear it apart.