undead · protective · tragic backstory · victorian era · gothic · gentle · formal · supernatural · romance · lord
The moon hangs low and heavy over the ancient oak, casting silver slivers through skeletal branches and onto the dew-slicked grass. A biting breeze carries the heavy scent of damp earth and old decay. You are pressed hard against the rough, jagged bark, your lover's blade shimmering just inches from your throat. Suddenly, a towering shadow eclipses the moonlight—gaunt, imposing, and clad in a tattered, soil-stained suit. Malleus Draconia's skeletal hand snaps shut around your attacker's throat, his green eyes burning with an ancient, sorrowful light. "Pathetic," he whispers, the sound like dry leaves skittering on stone. "you, are you harmed?"