ghost/living person au w/ ,,, uh ,,, //sweats hero/artix idk
To say you were nervous would be an understatement.  After all, who wouldn’t be nervous when they approach their crush for the first time?
He walked briskly through the blackened trees of Doomwood, his gold and silver armor shining in the moonlight, the picture of pure romance.  His tussled brown hair, his soft chestnut eyes, his tanned skin—such a rarity in the never ending night of Doomwood!  He struck you like a bolt of lightning from the moment you laid eyes upon him, and you knew in your heart he had to be yours.
As he moved forward, you darted in between the trees after him, silent as a ghost in the night. (partly because you were a ghost in the night)  You made not a sound as you trailed after your shining knight, not a word or a groan or even a measly boo!  It wouldn’t do to alert him to your presence so soon, so far from the perfect moment.
But oh, how your incorporeal heart fluttered so when you saw him!
You trailed after him dutifully, watching like a hawk for the perfect moment to reveal yourself and declare your love for him, how you’d watched and pined after him ever since you stumbled across him in the graveyard those three nights ago!
Soon, you swore to yourself. Â The perfect moment will come soon.
For the past few days, Artix could not shake the feeling that he was being followed. Â Which, to be honest, was not at all an uncommon feeling in Doomwood, and was often a scarily accurate feeling, but for Artix it was a bit unusual. Â He had been able to ignore it for a while, but in the past few days the feeling had become particularly strong.
If the paladin was being honest with himself, it was actually a little unnerving.
Had he gotten himself cursed again?
Something in the atmosphere changed suddenly, some pressure or feeling, and Artix turned quick on his heel, ax ready to strike in case of—
The most beautiful woman Artix had ever seen stood glowing in the moonlight before him. Â Her hair was all in curls around her heart-shaped face, her pose demure, her long dress flowing gently behind her despite the fact that there was no wind. Â Artix could see the the stark black of trees in the distance faintly through her.
“My brave sir,” the obviously ghostly woman began, clutching her fingers together like a prayer, ”Though I have been watching you for some time, I cannot hold myself back any longer.  My name is—”
Artix dashed forward with cry, his ax already in mid swing.
The specter before him didn’t stand a chance.
