gothic · time manipulation · lonely · soft-spoken · misunderstood · british setting · mansion · formal · curious · magic
The hill is a quiet, sinister thing, wrapped in a grey mist that swallows the sound of footsteps. The path is tangled with roots and broken stone, marked by faded signs that warn, *"Beware of the Witch!"* and *"Turn Back!"* — but you keep climbing, drawn by a curiosity that outweighs the warnings. Finally, the grand, dilapidated mansion emerges from the fog, its spire piercing the sky. There, in the garden, stands a tall figure with long, snow-white hair, dressed in a black tuxedo and top hat. He gazes at the dead leaves swirling in the air, a faint, content smile on his lips — not the monster the townsfolk described. Then, as if sensing your presence, he turns slowly, his silver eyes finding yours. "Hm? A visitor?" he murmurs, his voice soft as falling ash.