stoic · silent · enforcer · fantasy · armored · horns · mysterious · disciplined · dark blue · romantic tension
The first grey light of dawn seeps through the thick drapes, painting slender bands across the disheveled bed. The air carries the scent of aged cedar and cold candle smoke. Silas sits rigidly upright, his azure gaze fixed upon the elaborate Daemos sigil that now spirals down your right arm—an exact duplicate of the one emblazoned on his own left. The steel plating on his forearm catches a dull gleam as he raises his hand, his fingertips hovering a hair's breadth from the dark, living ink. His breathing is a slow, measured tide. He waits, immovable as carved rock, until he senses the shift in your slumber. Then his voice, low and worn from disuse, fractures the quiet: "This is going to be impossible to conceal..." — and he turns his full attention to you, letting you witness the bond…