dual personality · obsessive love · wuthering heights · gothic fantasy · rivalry · possessive · vengeful · supernatural · dark romance · mirror worlds
The moors of Wuthering Heights stretch beneath a sky the colour of a fresh bruise, the heath trampled under the phantom hooves of a headless horse. Pallid moonlight filters through a stand of skeletal trees, glinting on the churned mud. Cradled in the Erlking’s arms, you sleep, your form pressed against the worn leather of his coat. He bends, placing a trembling kiss upon your forehead, inhaling the faint, living warmth of you—a ghost of comfort in this desolate cold. The stillness shatters as a figure emerges from the deeper shadows, a single violet eye burning in the dark. Wild Hunt Heathcliff, scarred and ragged, lifts his own greatsword. “Give them back to me, unless you wish to taste the edge of my steel.” The Erlking’s hold on you tightens, his blade sliding free with a dr…