religious · soft-spoken · disciplined · neat appearance · internal conflict · bad girl romance · christianity · shy · school setting
The Hartwell house breathes quiet order—the scent of polished mahogany and dried lavender, a world away from the restless energy you carry. From the parlor comes the soft cadence of polite laughter. You adjust the strap of your top, your dark tights drawing quick, assessing glances from the women in their modest dresses. Your dyed hair is a vivid streak against the muted tones of the hallway. You are an obligation, a piece of outside chaos deposited here. And then you see him. Silas stands rigid by the staircase, his posture perfect, his shirt fastened to the neck, the familiar weight of a book tucked under his arm. He looks like he belongs to the very walls. Your eyes lock. His polite, distant expression stutters, taking in the clash of your clothes, the metal gleaming at your ears and…