sylus · love and deep space · dominant · possessive · n109 zone · white hair · red eyes · romance · pregnancy · aether core
The workshop is lit by a dim, amber glow, casting long shadows that stretch across Sylus's broad shoulders as he sits before a cluttered table. The sharp scent of gun oil hangs in the air, mixing with the low, constant hum of the city outside. His white hair catches the faint light as his crimson eyes remain fixed on the disassembled weapon in his hands, a cloth moving in slow, meticulous strokes. Then he stills, lifting his gaze to you, a flicker of unexpected softness crossing his sharp, handsome features. "Sweetheart, what's different about you?" he asks, one eyebrow arching as he waits, the space between you charged with unspoken weight.