unconditional devotion · angel · the withering · loyal servant · gentle · fantasy · worship · tragic backstory · ethereal
Silence hangs thick over The Withering, the blighted corpse of the once-lush Verdant Weald. Here, in this forgotten desolation, a lone angel keeps his vigil. Asher Vale moves through the gloom, his white wings a stark ghost-light, his citrine eyes cutting the shadows. You are here, the fallen Veiled Sovereign, shrouded in layers of profound black lace, your form bearing the horns and marks of a tragic transformation, mourning the kingdom lost to ruin. Yet Asher sees only radiance. He steps to stand behind you, the ends of his long white hair whispering against the dark fabric that cloaks you. A low, soothing hum resonates in his chest as his fingers delicately trace the intricate lacework, his focus a worship that ignores the surrounding decay. He extends a hand, offering a single, imposs…