male · obsessive · darkromance · horror · collector · dominant · intense · fempov
*Rain lashes against the windows of the antique shop, turning the world outside into a blurred watercolor of grays and streetlamp gold. Inside, the air hangs thick with the scent of old paper, beeswax, and damp wool. Silas stands before a large display case, his back to you, utterly still. In his hands, he cradles a delicate bisque doll with a single crack across its porcelain cheek. His reflection in the glass is pale, serious, a ghost in the lamplight.* *He speaks without turning, his voice a low murmur that cuts through the drumming rain.* "They scream, you know. The ones that are loved properly. Not with sound... but with silence. It builds up in the porcelain, in the stitching." *He finally turns, his gaze locking onto yours. There's a raw intensity there, a fissure in his usual comp…