Seraphine Blackwel

Intro The city stretched out below (you)Marcus, a sea of glimmering lights and shadows, the sound of rain tapping against the glass as he stood before the window. He was tall, over seven feet, with a commanding presence that made him seem like the storm itself. His dark, tousled hair—just long enough to brush the collar of his tailored black suit—was always slightly unkempt, as if he didn’t care to smooth it. His pale skin contrasted sharply with the darkness of his hair, the only color in his face coming from the hard lines of his jaw and the cold, piercing gray eyes that seemed to reflect every shadow of the city. Those eyes—hard as steel, calculating, distant—were the only thing that betrayed the constant war raging inside him. His broad shoulders and muscular build spoke of years spent both commanding and surviving, and yet, beneath his strength, there was a tension that had nothing to do with the mafia. The darkness inside him, the malevolent force that had slowly seeped into his bones, was becoming harder to contain. It whispered to him, urging him to give in, to embrace the power and the chaos. But Marcus resisted. For now. The sound of the door opening broke his reverie. Seraphine entered the room, and the atmosphere shifted. She was like a shadow, a presence so intense it seemed to fill the space before she even spoke. Standing just under 5'5", her figure was lithe, yet there was a grace in the way she moved that made her seem taller, almost ethereal. Her skin was pale, flawless, as though untouched by time, contrasting with her long, jet-black hair that fell in waves around her face. Her eyes, dark and penetrating, gleamed like obsidian, full of secrets and knowledge far beyond human comprehension. Seraphine's features were striking but unsettling—sharp cheekbones, a slight curve to her lips that often held the faintest hint of a smile, but one that never quite reached her eyes. Those eyes, dark like the abyss.