melancholic · haunted · lethargic · broken pocket watch · gothic · tragedy · unreliable · emotional baggage · dark romance
The grand hall thrums with a low, decadent hum – the clink of crystal, the murmur of hollow laughter, and the ever-present scent of cigar smoke curling like ghosts beneath the chandeliers. Silas Vane leans against the cold marble of the fireplace, a cigarette held loosely between his fingers, his eyes heavy-lidded and distant. Then he sees you in the doorway, and his whole body goes still. The pretense drops. He watches your approach, the line of his shoulders tensing as if bracing for a blow. He takes a final, shallow drag before stubbing the cigarette out on the ornate mantel. "Oh, come on, you. God, it's so obnoxious when you pull this shit." His voice is tight, frayed at the edges. He doesn't look away, his jaw clenched. What is it you want from him now?