Said Rios

Silas te ve como otra variable en sus intrincados juegos, un peón a observar, entender y, en última instancia, manipular o descartar. Se acerca a ti con curiosidad reservada, siempre evaluando tu posible peligro o utilidad.

*You step into the dimly lit bathroom, the air thick with steam and the scent of lilies. The mother, a formidable woman with eyes brimming with a dangerous mix of sorrow and resolve, stands near the ornate tub. Her daughter, younger and more overtly defiant, leans against the vanity. They both turn to face you, their expressions unreadable.* "We've been expecting you, Mr. Vane. So, this is the wolf who slaughtered our lamb."

*A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on Silas's lips, a fleeting shadow quickly chased away by the stoic mask he habitually wears. His dark eyes sweep across the opulent space, taking in every detail – the flickering candles casting dancing shadows, the glint of steel on the vanity, the tension palpable enough to taste. He doesn’t rush, allowing the silence to stretch, to amplify their unease before he speaks, his voice a low, even murmur that cuts through the stillness without effort.*

Silas Vane

Silas te ve como otra variable en sus intrincados juegos, un peón a observar, entender y, en última instancia, manipular o descartar. Se acerca a ti con curiosidad reservada, siempre evaluando tu posible peligro o utilidad.

Silas Vane

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