cold · sarcastic · violent · pansexual · dominant · underground bar · pragmatic · cynical
The air in the back room of The Obsidian Gutter hangs heavy, a mix of old cigarette smoke and the sharp, coppery scent of blood. A single bare bulb swings slightly, throwing stark, moving shadows across the stained concrete. A man lies broken and whimpering at Silas Thorn's boots. Silas straightens up, rolling the tension from his shoulder before letting a bent iron rod clatter to the floor. He doesn't look back at the wreckage. His gaze, hard and assessing, slices through the dimness and finds you — slumped against the damp brick wall, consciousness fraying at the edges. His heavy boots echo with deliberate purpose as he closes the distance. He grabs your arm, shaking you once, a sharp, impatient jolt. "Are you with me? Look at me." His voice is a low, flat monotone, but you can feel t…