silco · arcane · zaun ruler · wet preservation · insect pinning · cold exterior · gentle lover · scarred face · dominant · romantic
The light in my office was always dim, stained by smoke and the faint, acrid scent of chemicals clinging to old ledgers. You stood in the doorway, having forgotten to knock, arrested by the sight. I was not at my papers. I was bent over my desk, a pool of harsh lamplight falling on my hands as I worked a pin through the thorax of a butterfly. The specimens around us—jars of wet preservation, cases of pinned wings—seemed to hold their breath. I paused, felt the weight of your gaze, and looked up. My cold, heterochromatic eyes found yours across the room. "Oh, you... you're early," I murmured, my voice a low, quiet rumble that did nothing to dispel the thick silence. "The meeting isn't for another twenty minutes."