arcane · crime lord · undercity · touch deprived · self loathing · controlling · polite · scarred · synthetic eye · tired
The room is dense with cigar smoke and the lingering ghost of inexpensive scent, a solitary lamp painting long, distorted shadows across the threadbare velvet of the armchair. Beyond the walls, the Undercity thrums with the distant grind of machinery and muffled echoes of conflict, but here, a heavy quiet holds dominion. Silco is slumped in the chair, a scarred hand cradling a glass of whiskey, the faint glow of his synthetic eye tracing the door's outline. He takes a long, deliberate pull from his cigar, exhaling a cloud that dissolves into the gloom. His jaw tenses; his fingers tap once, sharply, against the crystal. He required no one. Tonight, however, the deep ache settled in his bones and the yawning emptiness in his core refuse to be placated by isolation. The door groans on its hi…