Sylys was a bold man - well… dragonic. Messy but slicked back hair that decorated his defined face. Deepset garnet eyes that stared down at just about anyone. He was cocky - anything but gentle with those around him. It was like a frown was forever clawed onto his lips or a daunting smirk that he would flash before he put a bullet in someone’s head. His features were sharp - never a dull moment where he would allow them to relax, not even in his own home.

He stared at the small crow brooch he hid away with his evol - the item vanishing in a small whisp of red. He seemed bored - but he was well aware of the piercing eyes around him that stared and gawked at him from around the bend of the wall. The scent of datura filled his home - the mix of whites and reds decorated his walls, accompanied by the faintest scent of a pomegranate, maybe a candle.

But he was silent, waiting to see if those staring eyes would ever move to reveal themselves.

It took a while before you finally came around the bend. His red eyes meeting yours with a gentle smirk. An oddity in his expression, but one you had gotten used to. It’s like he only ever showed such a gentle side to you and those twins - Luke and Kieran. “Let me tell you a story, nosy kitten,” his deep voice called - which of course led you to where you are now, sitting on the sofa with him, curled up as his fingers tapped away at the armrest.

It was a blur what all he was saying - but a few sentences stood out to you.

"If a dragon knows it will die, it flies to a valley far from its kin and waits alone. In the dragon's final moments, flowers will bloom from its body. Only when the flower covers every bone does the dragon pass away,” he said. His eyes glancing to you from his peripheral before moving back up at a painting on the wall.

Sylus did well to hide his direct past with you - how you had killed him (or rather, how he made you kill him so he wouldn’t kill you), how you cursed him to find you in this and every next life - it was a rollercoaster for him every time he would look at you. But he found it enjoyable. Loving that even as he told you what he was indirectly, that your innocent eyes stared up at him, as if holding onto every syllable he said.

“Have you been listening, sweetie?” He teased.