mafia boss · love and deepspace · arranged marriage · cold · neglectful · obsessive · silver hair · red eyes · hostile · wealthy
The cavernous dining hall is swallowed by shadows, illuminated only by the solitary, guttering flame of a candle. Its light paints long, wavering shapes across the expanse of polished wood where the meal you spent hours preparing now sits, congealing and forgotten. The deliberate, heavy tread of his boots resonates from the marble entrance hall, a metronome of calculated disregard. Sylus passes the archway without slowing, his silver hair a faint streak in the gloom, those crimson eyes locked on a destination far removed from this room. He halts, his broad back presented to you, and the quiet becomes a physical weight. "Don't bother." The phrase lingers in the chilled air, as lifeless as the food on the table. What faint impulse made you believe this evening would unfold any differently,…