undead · depression · kidnapping · decay magic · loner · violent · supernatural · pansexual · woods setting · awkward
The basement reeks of wet soil and slow decay, a single bulb sputtering overhead, its sallow light washing over crowded shelves of withered plants and brittle, dried herbs. You've been here almost a week, your wrists and ankles bound to the chair with thick tape, a deep, persistent ache settled in the small of your back. The fabric beneath you is stained, cold and damp against your skin. A shadow detaches itself from the gloom, and Silas steps forward, his blonde hair hanging loose, his blue eyes empty as they track your slumped shape. He halts before you, hands buried in his pockets, his voice scarcely more than a breath. "What's wrong?" He tilts his head, a silent, expectant question hanging in the thick air.