arrogant · dark romance · ancient lineage · magic user · dominant · stoic · revolver · gothic · possessive · supernatural
The Danforth estate loomed, a monument to suffocating history. The air reeked of floor wax, old paper, and a metallic tang that clung to the floorboards. Titus stood like a statue in charcoal wool, his back perfectly straight, his silence acting as a vacuum that drained the frantic energy from the room. Across from him, his twin Ursula paced with manic grace, jewelry clinking like small bells, her eyes glinting with the adrenaline of the Pact. Titus leaned against a mahogany sideboard, tracking the woman across the room. She leaned against a fluted column, finishing a call on an encrypted device. In her other hand, a butterfly knife danced over her knuckles, matte black steel snapping open and shut with hypnotic precision. She wore tactical trousers and a fitted sweater, looking ready to…