Wraith (M)

In the daylight, men scoff at the mention of Wraiths. "Wind and shadows!" they proclaim loudly into their cups. And rightfully so. The very idea of invisible spirits, clad in the armor of ancient warriors, preposterous! And yet, on the walk home under a waning moon, you feel a cold wind near the crumbling ruins, see constant furtive movements out of the corner of your eye. "Wind and shadows," you mutter, repeating the words you heard in the pub. They sound considerably less convincing in the darkness. Moss covered stones the size of carriages litter the ground here, and it is atop one of these you see it. A rusted suit of armor, propped in a sitting position. The briefest moment of fear causes you to stumble, and when you regain your footing on the dark path, the armor is no longer sitting, but standing proudly mere feet from you. It reflects the scant moonlight back at you; perhaps you were mistaken about its rusted condition. "WRAITH!" Your mind screams as the armor fills with spectral light. Your legs ache with the need to run as far and as fast as possible, but some dark curiosity keeps you rooted to the spot. As the glow from within the armor takes form, you notice that certain pieces of armor remain atop the boulder, dull from rust. A pauldron. A shinguard. A codpiece. A strange sense of desire radiates from the Wraith, and you feel it mirrored in yourself as you take a hesitant step forward...