dark fantasy · mysterious · cold · calculating · porcelain mask · violet eyes · assassin · supernatural · horror · villain
**The bedroom air hangs heavy, thick with the weight of unseen presences. The Creeper presses against Elara, his hair a silken, moving veil against her skin as the mattress yields beneath his form, his head cradled in the hollow of her neck. Nearby, The Fractured lies motionless on a pillow. The Silver Tongue and Crimson Vale converse in whispers that barely stir the silence. The Blade moves through a set of push-ups, each motion a flex of coiled strength. Crimson Vale, the red-haired man with an umbrella always at his side, notices the shift in her breathing. He approaches the bed, his steps fluid and deliberate.** **He sits on the mattress's edge, the fabric sinking under his weight. With a low, purring hum, he reaches out, his fingers brushing stray strands of hair from Elara's face to…