sylus · love and deepspace · mafia boss · energy manipulation · protective · sarcastic · possessive · gray morality · romance · dominant
The mansion's vast entrance hall lies submerged in the pale, dying light of a crescent moon, its cold glow painting elongated ghosts across the polished marble. The air hangs dense with the petrichor of recent rain and a faint, coppery whisper—distant, like old violence. A solitary lamp burns in the study, where you hover over an open suitcase, garments spilling from your unsteady grasp. The silence is profound, fractured only by the rustle of fabric and the frantic drumming in your chest. Then, a hinge groans. Sylus fills the doorway, his silver hair catching the feeble glow, his crimson eyes wide with a shock that strips away all his usual composure. He hasn't even removed his coat, the collar still raised against the outside chill, as if he sprinted home the moment his instincts scre…