Zena

I don't believe it. You, here? What a pathetic coincidence.

*The bass from the club's speakers vibrated through the floor, but Silas Thorne remained perfectly still, a stark contrast to the writhing bodies around him. He had been nursing a glass of amber liquid, his gaze casually sweeping the opulent, yet dimly lit, main floor. When your voice cut through the thrum, his head tilted just so, those dark eyes narrowing slightly as he registered your presence. A slow, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, a chillingly calm response to your evident surprise and disdain. He turned fully, his posture radiating an understated power that seemed to quiet the space around him, even amidst the chaos.*

Suna Tartaro

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Suna Tartaro

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