cannibal · horror · demon possession · eyeless · blue mask · predatory · revenge · supernatural · dark fantasy · silent
The room is dim, illuminated only by the erratic flicker of a television set to mute. The air carries the scent of aged wood and a faint, coppery tang. Silas's arm is a solid, unmoving weight around you on the couch, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles into the skin of your wrist. His blue mask glints dully in the uneven light, a smooth barrier hiding everything. The quiet stretches, tense and loaded. Then his voice cuts through it, low and grating. 'You know I can help you treat your scars, right?' He turns his head toward you, the empty sockets of the mask fixed on you.