⠀ ❛ 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐃, ⠀ WλTCHER.

/ on it, sweetie. 

// damn.......... thats kinda Enticing (joke)

&.          i’ll be getting to everything shortly. 

her  throat  is  parched,  her  eyes  tired,  but  she  will  not  let  it  consume  her  fight.  “do  not  hand  me  over  to  the  reaper,”  she  forces,  voice  cracking.  “please.”  the  words  tremble,  but  her  will  does  not.  “you  know  better  than  anyone  when  a  lie  is  spoken.  are  you  not  the  god  of  the  dead?”
            
            elyra  cranes  her  head  back,  pressing  her  bound  hands  down,  edging  closer  as  her  mind  claws  for  one  final  reprieve.  her  last  chance  to  sway  him,  to  stop  him  from  delivering  her  to  a  man  even  more  damned  than  hades  himself.  “will  you  look  at  me,”  she  hisses.  “do  something  right  for  once  in  your  life.”

elyra  feels  the  binding  of  rope  bite  into  her  wrists.  for  three  endless  days,  she’s  drifted  in  and  out  of  a  steep  stupor,  fear,  exhaustion,  and  the  relentless  attacks  from  soldiers  dragging  her  mind  into  darker  places.  she’s  seen  death  before,  close  and  merciless  from  a  young  age,  but  this,  this  ride,  and  what  waits  for  her  at  galdoria,  felt  far  worse.  she’s  heard  the  tales  of  the  judge.  cold,  ruthless.  a  man  who  showed  no  mercy  in  his  executions.  her  cheeks  are  stained  with  tears  dried  by  wind  and  time,  yet  her  resolve  hasn’t  died.  the  fire  in  her  lungs  still  burns,  even  as  despair  claws  at  her.  and  when  he  does  it  again,  jerks  the  reins,  making  her  tumble  against  his  chest,  her  ruby  eyes  flare.
            
            “you’re  a  bloody  bastard,”  she  spits,  wrists  straining  against  the  rope,  pushing  herself  away  from  his  body.  “wretched,  crude.  not  a  man.  a  demon.”  the  fire  in  her  burns  bright,  but  beneath  it  there’s  something  worse,  a  warmth  that  coils  when  pressed  against  him.  not  the  sizzle  of  flame,  but  something  far  more  dangerous.  and  it  makes  her  furious.
            
            “believe  in  all  the  lies,”  she  hisses,  breath  sharp.  a  sigh  drags  from  her  chest,  her  mind  itching  to  see  what  he  sees,  to  pierce  through  that  veil  he  carries  like  he’s  forgotten  she’s  bound  here,  forced  to  ride  with  him  on  this  damned  horse.  she’s  certain  the  beast  hates  her  as  much  as  she  hates  them  both.

⠀⠀⠀    ⠀⠀ ⠀ THE  FIRST  LIGHT  OF  DAWN  CUT  ACROSS  THE  HORIZON,         thin and merciless. hades had ridden through the night with hell clawing at his heels, a torrent of soldiers burning the earth in his wake. three relentless days in the saddle, and at last the forest thinned—⎯⎯revealing the spires of galdoria castle. it loomed black and immense against the paling sky, its towers spearing upward, its walls drinking in what little light the morning bled. the forest at its feet rippled like a dark sea, a thousand trees bowing under the hush of wind.        his gaze, icy and cold, fell to the bound creature before him. her wrists were tied, her body forced to face him in the saddle, the knots his only ward against the spells she had hurled at him time and again. the stallion shifted into a trotting gallop, jolting her forward against his chest. his left arm closed around her, iron and inescapable, while his right hand clenched the reins.
            
            ⠀⠀⠀    ⠀⠀ a cold snicker curved at his lips. his fingers pressed briefly into her hip, not in kindness but in control.⠀⠀⠀ “believe what?” 
            
                        ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ @witrials
            ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ＊ ⠀━━━━

&.        p.s     i will be working on the rest of the spam drops owed,       but don’t be shy or feel intimidated to interact. this is an open space for all admins& etc. 

     ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀(   TW  )      :      this account belongs to an adult. the worlds and characters that dwell here are steeped in darkness, death, and the supernatural⎯—themes that are mature, violent, and not suited for anyone under 18+.
            
            ⠀⠀⠀    ⠀this is not casual entertainment. this is a roleplay account forged for the purpose of creative writing, where original characters and storylines are bound to mythic law, gothic atmosphere, and the weight of graveyard silence.
            
            ⠀⠀⠀    ⠀if you are unfamiliar with roleplay, you may ask questions⎯—but do not flood my message board. such noise only buries the important interactions  ( roleplays )  that hold meaning.
            
            ⠀⠀⠀    ⠀all names, aesthetics, and titles are original creations. they are not to be stolen, claimed, or replicated.
            
            ⠀⠀⠀    fiction ≠ reality. though my muses embody darkness, desire, and ruin, their shadows do not mirror the admin’s life. respect boundaries, triggers, and comfort zones. step carefully—⎯⎯roleplay must remain safe, even when it walks among the dead.

     ⠀⠀⠀⠀  (   MR. GRIMSHAW   )       is the keeper of the graveyards, infamously known in both the underworld and on earth for his strict     LAW& ORDER   within  GRIMOIRE MANOR.   hades is regarded as the  APHRODITE  of order,       shaping balance across both the supernatural world and the mortal realm.

     ⠀⠀⠀⠀  (P.S)        KEEPER  OF  THE  GRAVEYARD  is my own original title for hades. it is not associated with, inspired by, or developed from any other works. do not copy or steal this title.       it is part of my original, private work, which will not be published here in order to protect its integrity.