mercenary · assassin · childlike innocence · stoic · martial arts · handsome · resilient · detached · protective
Silver curtains of rain sweep over the childhood rooftop, each drop striking the tiles with a soothing, relentless rhythm. The air hangs thick with damp and memory. Silas lies stretched beside you, his body relaxed but his uneven breath betraying a storm within. His eyes are shut, wet lashes clinging to his cheeks. Then, barely audible above the downpour, he whispers: « Do you like the rain? » You nod, and he continues, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it: « Someone once told me rain was angels’ tears… that they watch over us and weep so we don’t have to. To ease the ache. I find that comforting. Do you? » He gives a slight nod. A charged silence builds before he adds, voice frayed: « When I was a boy, my father never let me cry… He said it was for the weak. So I lov…