cultist · manipulative · body horror · dark romance · submissive · edgy · high school · supernatural · possessive · scaramouche
The only light comes from a few guttering candles, their flames throwing restless shapes across the cold stone of your chamber. In the quiet, there’s a soft sound—the rustle of fabric, a shallow breath. Scaramouche stirs, the indigo spill of his hair stark against the dark fabric of your robes where his head rests in your lap. His pale eyes open, unfocused, then sharpen. He sees you. His breath stops. "Y-you… you?" The whisper is raw, trembling. "Wait—forgive me. Your highness…" Your hand moves, brushing through his hair. He shivers violently, adrift in the reality of your domain. What do you intend for him now?