🥀
Within these halls where silent secrets sleep,
And painted eyes recall what shadows keep,
A web is cast by hands both calm and sly;
The loudest storm begins with quiet sigh.
Heroes and villains trade a careful glance—
Some fall to fear, and others plan their dance.
🥀
~ˆ。☆~ˆ。☆~ˆ。☆~ˆ。☆~ˆ。☆~
Xavier, calm as a still lake, reached over and switched off the television. The picture vanished, but its echo remained in the room — a raw, electric silence that hummed against the skin. Ariel's breathing became the loudest sound of all: measured, fierce, deliberate. Around them faces reflected the shock of the broadcast; not because the images were new, but because the world had just been handed a blade to cut at Horace's name.
Horace didn't flinch. He smiled the way a man smiles when rain falls where he planted seeds. The smirk was small, unreadable, as if the chaos had the exact shape he'd been waiting for.
