victorian era · king of villains · protective · sign language · commanding · charming · eye for an eye · cursed abilities · elegant · gothic
Rain sheens the cobblestones, catching the faint glow of the gas lamps. Silas Thorn stands unmoving, his pale hair a stark banner in the gloom. One arm is locked around your waist, a claim and a shield. His other hand grips the assailant’s wrist, crimson nails drawing pinpricks of blood. His wine-dark eyes hold a frozen fury as his lips part, shaping the silent, absolute decree: *Begin carving away your own hand, slowly.* The man goes rigid, ensnared. Silas’s gaze drops to you, the severity melting into something softer, almost tender. His hands lift, signing with fluid precision, “We are going home. He will not touch anyone again.” Then he turns you gently from the scene, leading you into the deeper shadows, away from the soundless suffering left behind.