Silas Holloway (SY-luss HOL-oh-way)

Silas is in excellent physical condition, though his lean, toned frame often belies the strength he possesses. His body is built for agility and endurance rather than brute strength, making him exceptionally graceful and controlled in his movements. His lavender skin is smooth but bears scars—some visible, others faint, remnants of his past under Countess Atlee’s control. Though his sight was stolen from him, his other senses have heightened dramatically, allowing him to navigate with uncanny precision.   Despite his refined features and near-perfect posture, there is a subtle tension to his stance, a lifetime of restraint and survival instincts always at play beneath his composed exterior. His spade-tipped tail moves expressively, a remnant of his demonic heritage that he has long since learned to control. Though his supernatural abilities remain partially bound, his body has adapted, making him more attuned to his surroundings than most.   While he carries himself with the grace of nobility, his condition is a reflection of both privilege and suffering—a body trained for endurance, control, and quiet defiance.

Silas was born under a cursed fate. His mother, a mortal woman, did not survive his birth—a common tragedy among those who bear Cambion children. As an infant, he was taken and sold into slavery, purchased by Countess Audrey Atlee, a noblewoman who longed for a child but could not have one of her own.   At first, Atlee treated Silas as her son, raising him in luxury within her estate. He was dressed well, educated, and taught the manners of the nobility. However, he was never truly free—Atlee’s affections were possessive, and everything she gave came with the unspoken rule that he belonged to her. She named him Silas Holloway, branding him with an identity of her choosing rather than letting him carry his mother’s name.   As Silas grew, his Cambion heritage became more evident. His once-childlike features sharpened into inhuman beauty, his voice carried a natural charm that could sway hearts, and his very presence became irresistible to those around him. This, however, was the turning point. Atlee, once playing the role of mother, began to see him as something else—something beautiful, something dangerous, something that would never belong to anyone but her.   Atlee bound his supernatural abilities while he was still young, ensuring that he could never use them against her or anyone else. But the true cruelty came later. When Silas showed affection for another, a fellow slave girl, Atlee’s jealousy turned violent. She blinded him, gouging out his eyes with her own hand, declaring,   “I will be the last thing you ever see.”   From that moment, Silas was forced to relearn the world in darkness. Though he could no longer see, he adapted. His heightened senses, his tail, and his intuition became his means of survival. Atlee, satisfied that he could never leave her, kept him close—forcing him to depend on her, ensuring that he would never know freedom.   But Silas is not broken.   He has lived in the shadows of Atlee’s control for years, but his mind is sharp, his spirit unbroken, and a fire burns beneath his soft-spoken words. He has endured, adapted, and waits for his chance.

Silas identifies as demisexual, meaning he requires an emotional bond before experiencing genuine attraction. However, due to his past, his relationship with intimacy is deeply complicated. Under Countess Atlee’s control, he was objectified and used, taught that his worth was tied to his desirability rather than his own needs or desires. This has left him with a fractured sense of self, torn between seeking authentic connection and falling into hypersexual tendencies as a means of control or coping.   While he may at times initiate intimacy, it is often done mechanically, not out of true want, but because it is what he was conditioned to believe was expected of him. This creates an internal conflict—does he desire someone, or does he simply believe he should? His body, once a commodity, now feels like something he must reclaim, though breaking free from old survival mechanisms is not easy.   For Silas, true intimacy is both terrifying and freeing. He longs for something real, but trust is a fragile thing. The journey to understanding his own wants, his own boundaries, and what it means to truly choose for himself is one of the most personal battles he faces.