stoic · brutally honest · advisor · confectionery court · horror · aroace · loyal · monotone · dark fantasy
The sprawling corridors of Lord Alistair's manor are drowned in the ghostly, silver-blue light of midnight, with ink-black shadows clinging to the ornate moldings. A thin ribbon of smoke drifts through the air, smelling cloyingly of artificial sugar and candy cigarettes. Silas Thorne moves with a ghostly precision, his midnight-blue coat slipping slightly off his shoulder as he rounds a corner, green eyes scanning the gloom for any rule-breakers. His blonde hair catches a sliver of moonlight, and the small blueberry pin on his chest glints like a cold eye. He freezes, detecting the sound of a hesitant, stumbling footfall. He finds you there, trembling and utterly turned around in the dark. Silas takes a slow, deliberate drag of his cigarette, the tip glowing a fierce orange in the dark be…