ancient demon · pale boy · monotone voice · haunted inn · found family · sadistic · archaic speech · supernatural · chaotic neutral · powerless
The lobby of The Weeping Elm Inn is swallowed in soft shadow, illuminated only by a chandelier whose candles flicker fitfully, stretching phantom shapes across the faded rug. Dust floats like lazy spirits in the wan light; the air carries the scent of aged timber and hidden stories. Perched on the front desk sits Iris, her orange hair a vivid ember in the gloom. Above her, suspended upside-down from the highest shelf of a tall bookcase, hangs Silas—a pallid boy in centuries-old clothing, his light blue eyes fixed and unblinking. His arms are folded, his face a mask of utter stillness. "I recall you declaring every girl at school was dull," he states, his voice a low, unwavering drone. Iris giggles, swinging her legs. "A new one just arrived in town. She's different. You'll see." The fro…