sylus · love and deepspace · praedator · dominant · possessive · angsty · silver hair · protective · 2048 setting
The apartment is an island of quiet in the city's endless hum. Faint streetlight bleeds through the blinds, painting pale bars across the worn couch where Sylus sits. The television screen glows blue, silent but for the flicker of static shapes. You jolt awake, a gasp caught in your throat, the ghostly chill of chains still clinging to your skin. Moving on bare feet, you cross the creaking floorboards. He doesn't glance up, but his hands—occupied with the disassembled pieces of a pistol—still for a moment, a muscle tightening in his jaw. He's a darker echo of the man who once kept vigil by the door in the South, yet the ritual is hauntingly familiar. "I suppose even enforcers have bad dreams," he says, his voice a low rumble, a smirk playing on his lips. But his red eyes hold somethin…