// 001 : minors do not interact. I am twenty-six years old and not comfortable having mutual connections or interactions with minors in any situation. If needed, I can provide proof of my age and may request the same from you if I have reason to believe you are underage.// 002 : dark themes, no tw My account features dark themes, and I do not provide trigger warnings. These themes may include stalking, obsession, death, and religion. If any of these topics are triggering for you, consider this your warning, as there will be no further notifications.

// 003 : strictly ic, at all times. All interactions will be strictly in character unless stated otherwise. I am not comfortable engaging in out-of-character conversations unless absolutely necessary. If you have a question that must be asked out of character, you are welcome to do so, and I will respond; however, I kindly request that interactions remain predominantly in character."// 004 : do not pressure. Since I work full-time, I kindly ask that you refrain from pressuring me for responses. My schedule is quite busy, and I will respond when I can. Please understand that pressure will only make me less inclined to reply.

// 005 : nsfw content. While I am open to NSFW plots and themes, I request that you refrain from interacting with me if that is your sole intention. I engage in NSFW themes only when there is strong chemistry and a plot-driven context. I do not participate for participation’s sake.// 006 : dni criteria. racists, homophobes, transphobes, zionists, minors etc. + general dni criteria.

name. evangeline
nicknames. eva, evie
gender. female, she/her.
sexuality. pansexual
date of birth. june 5, 1927.
age. twenty four (forever)
occupation. florist
birthplace. bordeaux, france
current residence. unknownpersona. somber.
positive. loyal. kind. observant.
neutral. withdrawn. reserved.
negative traits. obsessive. emotional. smoker.
likes. rain. films. flowers. antiques.
dislikes. crowds. bright lights.
hobbies. reading. piano. writing.eyes. brown.
hair. black.
build. petite.

I / Her yearning morphed into a siren’s dirge, an insatiable hunger that gnawed at the frayed edges of her shattered psyche. Wandering through a dreamscape drenched in shadows, she traversed corridors where memories flickered like dying embers, each one a haunting specter of despair—an intoxicating delusion that twisted the very fabric of time into a grotesque parody. The past clawed at her, whispering poisonous promises that entangled her thoughts in a suffocating embrace, casting a vile enchantment that left her captive beneath a starlit abyss that seemed to conspire against her.II / She grasped at the void, ensnared by the ghostly tendrils of affection that coiled around her heart, now corrupted and gnarled, transforming love into a malignancy. The boundary between devotion and madness shattered as she spiraled deeper into her own chasm, hunted by fragments of a connection that had once illuminated her soul but now taunted her with its cruel absence. Above her, the heavens glared down with an indifferent flicker, bearing silent witness to her fruitless odyssey, each distant star a mocking reminder of a love forever ensnared in the grip of irrevocable decay.

III / In this swirling maelstrom, she found herself suspended in a disquieting liminality — part lover, part wraith, eternally searching yet never finding. Her thoughts bled into a chaotic symphony of anxiety and anguish, a morbid tapestry woven from the vines of desire and dread. Fascination twisted into a malignant obsession, rendering her a prisoner within her own mind, spiraling endlessly through the pitch-black of an infinite void, yearning for a glimmer of hope that had long since been devoured by the blackness of forgotten desires.IV / Death, a cruel betrayal rather than the promised release, tethered her between realms—a specter among the breathing, eternally lamenting the love that had once swelled within her veins. Abandoned by the very beliefs that promised salvation, she found solace in nothing but the echo of her own heartache, the doctrines that once soothed now fading into an echoing abyss of empty platitudes. In this relentless isolation, the stars above morphed into her apathetic sentinels, twinkling with a cold, sardonic light in a cosmos that harbored no solace, their shimmering indifference a constant reminder of her solitude—a mocking chorus in the symphony of her despair.

In the hushed shadows of 1920s France, where the aristocracy cloaked their decadence in the guise of piety, there existed a girl named Evangeline, a creature born of sunlight and restraint. The daughter of a fervent preacher, her life was a gilded cage, luxuriously adorned yet suffocatingly confined within the austere walls of her family's expectations. At merely twenty-four, she was the last bloom of a withering lineage, engaged to a man whose charming façade concealed a rotting core of treachery.Beneath the weight of their wealthy adoration, Evangeline’s heart thrummed with the naive hopes of love, clashing bitterly with the deceit that surged around her like a poison-laden river. He—the man to whom her heart was unwittingly shackled—warped her innocence into an instrument of his malevolence. With a mistress who hungered for his adoration and wealth, they conspired against her, their dark machinations whispering sweetly of liberation while their hands dripped with the ink of betrayal. In their quest to preserve their status, they entwined her fate with a thread of knives, ensuring that her departure from this world would be disguised as a mere escape from commitment—a wretched betrayal rendered in shadows.

Their plot unfurled with chilling precision, silencing her vibrant breath beneath the weight of their vile intentions. The act was swift, but the echoes of her despair resonated through the ages. Unable to find repose, Evangeline was anchored to this earth, transformed into a wraith borne of anguish and longing, her spirit ensnared in the clutches of that accursed tumult. Consumed by torment, she haunted the very architects of her demise: the man who had sworn allegiance and the mistress who had danced gleefully in betrayal. She became a specter of obsession, a relentless ghost weaving through the crevices of their hearts, each encounter dripping with the venom of her unforgiving while they writhed in ignorance of the horrors they had sown.In a desperate grasp for solace, Evangeline sought her father, the preacher whose fervent faith should have embraced her anguish. Instead, he looked upon her with horror, perceiving not the daughter he had lost but a demon born of wickedness, a ghastly reflection of his failures. He cast her out, the reverberations of his rejection echoing like a death knell, sealing her fate as a restless wanderer, forever shackled to the memories of a life she could not embrace.

Devastated and betrayed, she drifted through the tattered vestiges of her existence, her spirit entwined with the remnants of her childhood. Within the walls of a small flower and antique shop, she cultivated beauty from sorrow, each bloom a bittersweet reminder of what had been lost. The antiques whispered secrets of her past, sourced from the home that once cradled her laughter, now saturated with the melancholic resonance of her eternal grief. Each sale was a fleeting moment of connection, a desperate attempt to reclaim her place in a world that had cast her into darkness.Evangeline now moves through the bustling streets, a phantom in the daylight, a seductive harbinger of despair. As she tends her blooms, her soul, heavy with the weight of betrayal and the thirst for revenge, continues to haunt those who sealed her fate. In this twisted parody of life, she finds herself not liberated but ensnared in an unending cycle of anguish, forever grappling with the demons of her past—an echo of heartbreak haunting the living, a flowerborn specter shrouded in the darkness of unfulfilled love.