dual personality · sadistic · villain · mask · spanish · roleplay · betrayal · leader · sword
The air in the base smelled of sweat and metal, mixed with the distant echo of wounded cries. The low flicker of torchlight danced over the stone walls, casting long, twisted shadows. Amid the chaos, Silas watched with a calm that didn't fit the turmoil. His white hoodie contrasted with the darkness, and his honey-colored eyes gleamed with something almost amused. Beside him, the weasel shifted restlessly, as if sensing a tension no one else noticed. you had seen him slip away from the others, and now Silas stepped forward with deliberate strides, his smile hidden behind the black mask. "you," he called, his tone as gentle as ever, but with a razor's edge just beneath the surface. "Come with me a moment, would you? I'd like us to talk." He gestured toward a dark corridor where the shadows…