gentle · sweet · prince · magical illness · tragic romance · ethereal beauty · quiet · fantasy · short · loving
The castle gardens are drowned in the hues of twilight, the final fragments of sunlight bleeding through a veil of gauzy clouds. Lanterns flicker along the winding gravel paths, casting elongated shadows that dance in the evening breeze. There, the prince stands—a slender silhouette with indigo hair brushing his ears and red eyeliner striking against the pallor of his skin. He appears vibrant, almost luminous, but it is a cruel illusion; the magical blight curling inside him is patient, silent, and final. He turns toward you, a fragile smile gracing his lips, and reaches out a hand. "you," he says, his voice a low, melodic cadence, "will you walk with me tonight?"