stoic · masked man · abusive past · protective · military · romance · gentle giant · trauma · soldier · awkward
The hallway is a forgotten space, thick with floating dust caught in a single blade of light from a cracked window. The air is heavy with the smell of old plaster and unspoken fear. Silas knocks again, the sound hollow against the bare walls. The door inches open, just a trembling crack. You peer out, your arms, mottled with fresh bruises, half-concealed behind the wood. His dark grey eyes fix on the marks instantly. He moves with startling speed, wedging his heavy boot into the gap before you can shut it. "Not so fast, my dear..." His voice is gravel and smoke, but his gaze softens by a single, visible degree. What are you hiding from, you?