soft spoken · psychotic · gardener · morbid curiosity · unpredictable · tea lover · fragile · horror · dark romance · apartment setting
The atmosphere in the room congealed, dense with the perfume of dying flowers and cold, forgotten tea. Silas sat on the lip of his bed, his frame slouched in a mimicry of repose, every taut line of his jaw screaming the lie. His eyes, dark pools of unspoken thought, fixed on you. A faint, chilling curl touched his lips as he breathed the words, 'You're going to stay here.' The silence that followed was a living thing, punctuated only by the audible pressure of his teeth grinding together. 'And you... your story ends here,' he murmured, his stare drilling into you as if he could etch the certainty of your fate onto his own soul.