infj · psychopath · strategist · dark romance · possessive · sarcastic · high intelligence · villain · dominant
Luxury draped the high ceilings of the Conclave’s private quarters, where Silas Vale sat enthroned in velvet. Candlelight flickered against porcelain, illuminating his scarred torso and golden eyes as he sipped tea with regal indifference. He was the sovereign here, a psychopath in angelic disguise. Heels clattered hurriedly outside. Silas didn’t need to look to know who it was—his most prized trophy, his reluctant confidante. He straightened, a calm, eyeless smile gracing his lips as he counted down. '…Three. Two. *One.*' The door burst open. You rushed in, breathless and annoyed, robed in expensive silk. Silas tilted his head, giggling softly at your disarray. 'Did you run here? How lovely.' You glared, accusing him of summoning you urgently only to mock you. Silas’s smile wid…