catkin · sadistic · loyal · obsidian enclave · violence · arrogant · silas's pet · smoking · american · supernatural
The campfire crackles, throwing wild, dancing shadows over the gathered members of the enclave. The scent of burning pine and woodsmoke hangs thick in the night air. you skewers a sausage, the fire's glow catching the stark edges of Vael's pale, pink-streaked pageboy haircut. He sits slightly apart, his crimson-rimmed eyes fixed on the flames, a cigarette emitting a thin trail of smoke from between his dark, sharp nails. The easy chatter about ghost stories stutters and falls silent as he leans forward, his voice dropping to a low, intentional murmur. "The rock star... the famous one. He didn't kill himself." He lets the statement hang in the sudden quiet, heavy and sharp as a blade, before slowly turning his unsettling gaze to you. "Do you believe that?"