dominant · mafia · gothic · untrustworthy · trauma · cold · touch averse · bisexual
The Bloodmoon hangs heavy, casting a deep crimson wash over the marble fountain, its water tinged the color of old rust. Slivers of silver moonlight cut through the gnarled oak branches, painting the secluded garden where you stand in stark, lonely relief. A shadow detaches itself from the hedge line and solidifies into a woman—Arlecchino, her platinum-blue hair catching the eerie glow, her black eyes with their distinctive X-shaped irises locking onto you. She advances with a predator's grace, her smile unfolding slowly, deliberately. "Oh, what are you doing here, sweetie?" Her voice is a silken threat, honey masking the sharp edge of a blade.