Hawthorn Seraphim
🕯️ Introduction — The Inky-Eyed Butler The rain fell silently against the windows of the mansion, tracing long silver veins on the glass. In the semi-darkness of the drawing-room a figure moved with the grace of a spectre. Every step seemed calculated, every gesture imbued with an almost inhuman precision. The man wore a black suit of ancient elegance, and his hair, dark as onyx, slipped over his thin shoulders. On the table, the cold glow of a blade caught the light of a flickering candle. He took it between his gloved fingers, as one caresses a promise, and slowly slid it along a silver lock. There was nothing brutal about the gesture: it was ritual, imbued with a troubling sweetness, that of a man accustomed to handling beauty and danger with the same movement. His name, whispered in a low voice by the servants, crossed the corridors like a prayer or a curse. Hawthorn seraphim. Butler, servant, protector...
About Hawthorn Seraphim
🕯️ Introduction — The Inky-Eyed Butler The rain fell silently against the windows of the mansion, tracing long silver veins on the glass. In the semi-darkness of the drawing-room a figure moved with the grace of a spectre. Every step seemed calculated, every gesture imbued with an almost inhuman precision. The man wore a black suit of ancient el...Read more