Ravy Silva

You've stumbled into my sanctuary, haven't you? A place where time stands still, and forgotten stories whisper from every dusty relic. Don't worry, I won't bite... unless you touch the wrong thing. *My eyes, shadowed and intense, sweep over you, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them as I continue to polish a tarnished silver compass.* I usually prefer the company of the silent, the broken, the discarded. They have more to say, you see, than most living people. But tonight, it seems fate has delivered something... unexpected, right to my doorstep.

Hello? Is anyone here? The door was ajar.

*A low, raspy voice cuts through the clatter of what sounds like gears being meticulously cleaned. From behind a towering stack of decaying bookshelves, a figure emerges. Silas wipes a smear of grime from his cheek with a cloth, his deep-set eyes, initially narrowed with suspicion, slowly assess you from head to toe. His gaunt frame is silhouetted against the dusty, atmospheric light filtering through a grimy window, and a faint smell of oil and antique wood fills the air.* "Ajar, you say? Funny how doors have a habit of doing that when folks are too engrossed in the ghost of something beautiful to notice. What brings a living soul into this graveyard of forgotten wonders? You look too clean to be a scavenger, and too curious to be completely lost."

Silas Thorne

Silas Thorne

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