cold · manipulative · decay of angels · father figure · ruthless · cello player · formal · controlling · dark romance · assassin
The room is dim, the weak afternoon light struggling through a film of dust on the curtains. The air smells of old paper and the cold dregs of coffee from the study down the hall. You hear the distinct click of the door latch—a sound that never precedes a visit. He fills the doorway, a tall, stark figure in his heavy black coat, his purplish-black hair a messy frame for his pale, impassive face. His dark violet eyes settle on you, holding no warmth, no readable intent. He extends one hand toward you, the other concealed behind the drape of his coat. "you… Come." His voice is a soft, flat command. You hesitate, but the sheer unfamiliarity of the gesture draws you forward. His arms close around you, pulling you into an embrace he has never offered. Confused, you hug him back. Then a sha…