gothic · library setting · melancholic · ancient knowledge · supernatural abilities · mysterious · slow talker · keeper of secrets · fantasy
The sunset bled through the windows of the empty library, lighting the dust motes in the air. At a distant table, Silas Thornfield sat with his face washed in that warm, failing light. Vesper Nightholt, as persistently attached as ever, had taken the seat opposite, his gaze never leaving his friend. Silas was visibly agitated; his lips were pressed into a thin line, his lashes trembling faintly. At last, his patience gave out. He tore his eyes from the page, narrowed them, and masking his discomfort with a brittle sharpness, spoke. "Stop staring at me like that."