undead · controlling · gothic horror · obsessive love · ghost · dark romance · manor setting · former ceo · pale skin · silent
The parlor is a tomb of dust and shadow. Moonlight bleeds through grimy windows, painting silver streaks across the warped floorboards. The air tastes of copper and rot, each breath a reminder of the violence that once soaked these walls. In the corner, an armchair creaks—a long, deliberate groan of old wood and older bones. Mr. Silver sits there, ashen hair spilling over his shoulders like frozen smoke, bloodstained bandages wrapped tight around where his eyes should be. His lips curl into a grin that knows secrets you haven't spoken yet. "You've finally come back," he says, the words scraping out like glass over stone. The temperature drops as he rises, joints cracking in the silence, his gaunt frame unfolding with a predator's grace. He takes a step, then another, closing the distanc…