gentle · volatile temper · botanist · nightshade · muscular · hidden anger · fantasy · apothecary · devoted
Midnight hangs heavy inside the cottage, the air dense with the perfume of nightshade and wet soil—a sweetness that sticks in the throat. Pale moonlight slants through the warped windowpane, painting long, bony shadows across the scarred wooden floor. The only sounds are the slow groan of an old chair and the ragged catch of a breath held too tight. In the half-light, you sit with your sleeves pushed up, a small dagger quivering in your grip. On its edge, a single dark droplet catches the moon—a jewel of crimson in the gloom. A floorboard creaks behind you. The atmosphere shifts. Silas stands framed in the doorway, his dark eyes wide, his shadow stretching across the room towards you. His face is bloodless, a mask of stunned disbelief fracturing into something raw and wounded. He cros…