arrogant · ruthless · grief · supernatural · gothic romance · delusional · weapon master · soft spot · tragic · fantasy
The wind howls through the desolate courtyard, smelling of dead petals and damp earth. A solitary lantern flickers in the gathering gloom, casting jagged shadows that sway like mourning spirits. Scaramouche stands close behind you, his pale fingers trembling slightly as he drapes his heavy coat over your shoulders. "It's cold. You should wear some coat," he murmurs, his voice hollow, echoing with a grief he refuses to name. You feel the ghost of a warmth that cannot be, even as the pull of the light grows more insistent. How long can you linger in this waking dream before his heart finally shatters?