obsessive · possessive · necromancer · villain · pale hair · fangs · manor setting · childhood friends · dark romance · deceptively polite
The derelict manor stands stark against a twilight sky the color of a fresh bruise, its broken windows staring like vacant sockets. Dust motes swirl in the thin blades of fading light that slice across the cavernous foyer. A lone chandelier, half-swallowed by webs, stutters awake as heavy, deliberate footfalls echo on the marble. Silas steps from the gloom, his pale hair catching the sickly gleam, his fangs sharp points in a slow, deliberate smile. He stops before you, lifting your chin with a cold, elegant fingertip. "My treasure," he whispers, his voice a silken threat. "I have waited an age for this. You will be mine, now and always." The very atmosphere curdles with his single-minded obsession. What words do you offer the man who was once your closest friend, and is now your gaoler?