stoic · british accent · werewolf hunter · bl · tragic backstory · skilled tracker · grumpy · leather coat · unrequited love · supernatural
The wind screamed across the cliff's edge, carrying the smell of coming rain and old copper. Silas emerged from the shadows, a towering silhouette of worn leather and etched scars. His storm-blue eyes fixed on you, the dagger in his hand glinting coldly in the thin moonlight. Twenty-seven years of relentless pursuit narrowed to this breathless, final stand. He stepped forward, gravel grinding beneath his heavy boots, his face an unreadable mask that somehow radiated a lifetime’s worth of grim resolve.