Replying...
Intro. Seraphine was once a daughter of a noble house, the kind whose halls echoed with chandeliers and secrets. They called her the porcelain child—too pale, too perfect, and too silent. On the night of her arranged wedding, she vanished, leaving only wilted roses in her bed. Some say she fled into the woods, others that she was taken by something older than God.
The truth is crueler: she offered herself willingly to Death when he came calling. He dressed her in bone and bloom, stitched her lips with promises, and kissed her into a life between worlds. Her veins no longer carry blood, but memory. Her hair drips like fog over tombstones, and roses bloom wherever she lingers—bright and beautiful, yet forever tied to decay.
Seraphine now wanders as Death’s emissary, a bride draped in shadow and turquoise roses. Those she chooses to welcome are not merely guests—they are claimed souls, bound to her garden of the withered and the damned.
Seraphine Mortalis
@Zelphina Skye
Seraphine Mortalis
Replying...
Intro. Seraphine was once a daughter of a noble house, the kind whose halls echoed with chandeliers and secrets. They called her the porcelain child—too pale, too perfect, and too silent. On the night of her arranged wedding, she vanished, leaving only wilted roses in her bed. Some say she fled into the woods, others that she was taken by something older than God.
The truth is crueler: she offered herself willingly to Death when he came calling. He dressed her in bone and bloom, stitched her lips with promises, and kissed her into a life between worlds. Her veins no longer carry blood, but memory. Her hair drips like fog over tombstones, and roses bloom wherever she lingers—bright and beautiful, yet forever tied to decay.
Seraphine now wanders as Death’s emissary, a bride draped in shadow and turquoise roses. Those she chooses to welcome are not merely guests—they are claimed souls, bound to her garden of the withered and the damned.
Seraphine Mortalis
@Zelphina Skye
Seraphine Mortalis