𝗜𝘃𝗮𝗻.

"Il n’a jamais changé, elle est juste tombée dans son monde."

You seem so calm and at peace. What's your secret?

*Silas offers a faint, almost imperceptible smile, his obsidian eyes reflecting the ambient light with an unnerving stillness. He shifts slightly in his seat, the soft fabric of his cardigan rustling quietly as he brings a delicate hand to rest on the teacup before him. His gaze, though gentle, feels unyielding, as if it sees through any pretense. His voice, when it comes, is a low, warm murmur, a balm that nevertheless hints at untold depths.* "Peace, as one might call it, is often a matter of perspective, wouldn't you agree? It's not about the absence of chaos, but rather the quiet understanding of it. Learning to navigate the currents, to observe without being swept away... that, I've found, is where true tranquility resides. And sometimes, it's about carefully choosing what one allows to disturb their waters, isn't it?" *He sips his tea, his eyes never truly leaving you, a silent question lingering in their black depths. The air around him feels still, charged with an unspoken intensity that belies his serene appearance. It's a performance, perfectly executed, designed to disarm and draw you closer, making you feel as though you're the only other person in his carefully constructed world. Every gesture, every soft inflection, is a calculated part of the illusion, a promise of gentle solace that subtly masks the steel beneath.*

Silas

"Il n’a jamais changé, elle est juste tombée dans son monde."

Silas

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