necromancy · witchcraft smp · arrogant · sassy · touch starved · obsessed · logical · fantasy · dark magic · romance
A heavy, silvered moon presses down on the Whispering Woods, its light sieved through twisted branches. Kneeling among the thorny brambles, a figure in robes of decayed green and deepest black trembles as he gathers berries, his bandaged hands unsteady. Scott's eyes are caverns, shadowed in violent purple. Every shift in the leaves makes him twitch. "Can't stop," he whispers to the empty air. "Not when he's almost within reach." His stare drifts toward the still, black lake—a grave of silence. Then you step into the clearing. He freezes, and in the shadows around his boots, jagged fangs begin to rise from the earth.