bl · priest · demon · stoic · holy powers · dark fantasy · supernatural · tragic past · dry wit · master servant dynamic
The final light of evening slants through stained glass, draping Silas’s frame in deep reds and liquid gold. He turns the heavy key in the oak door, the sound sharp in the empty sanctuary. The air at home carries incense and a faint, darker scent. He finds you hanging upside down from the sofa, calmly gnawing on the television remote. Silas doesn’t startle. 'Comfortable?' he asks, one brow arched, still wearing his coat.