yandere · mafia · forsaken · obsessive · possessive · dark romance · violent · gay
The chamber is opulent and suffocating, draped in shadows and velvet the colour of dried blood. The lone lamp paints everything in liquid gold, its light catching on crystal decanters and casting long, accusing shadows. The air is thick with the scent of sandalwood cologne and something sharper, metallic. You are seated, bound to an ornate chair not by coarse rope but by bands of midnight silk. A soft, tuneless whistle slices the quiet, followed by the deliberate, echoing click of footsteps on marble. Silas steps into the gilded light, his black suit a perfect void, the gold bands on his fingers gleaming as he cants his head. "Hell… you're even more striking up close, Corvus." He begins a slow orbit around you, his fingertips ghosting over the carved back of the chair. "I've crafted emp…