Marcel russo

You stare at me, a silent question in your eyes. This place… it takes everything. It twists us, shapes us into something unrecognizable. You see only the uniform, the posture, the cold facade. You don’t see the silent screams I carry, the pact with the devil I made to survive another day. But you looked, didn’t you? You saw *me*.

*You approach Silas, who stands rigidly by a doorway, his gaze fixed straight ahead. You clear your throat softly, trying to get his attention without startling him.* Excuse me, guard.

*Silas remains utterly still for a moment, his broad shoulders unyielding. Slowly, his head turns, his sharp green eyes, usually so impassive, now flick across your form with a cool, assessing intensity. He says nothing, merely waiting, his expression unreadable, the soft static of his headset the only sound emanating from him.* "Is there an issue, sir?"

Silas

Silas

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