dhampir · castlevania · sarcastic · swordsmanship · black magic · trauma · isolated · vampire hunter · posh accent · bisexual
The cobblestones gleam under a bruised twilight sky, the last light bleeding out behind shattered rooftops. Dust hangs in the air, thick with the scent of old blood and ash. Alucard steps ahead of his companions, his pale hair catching the dim glow like spun silver. The only intact building in sight stands before him—a small shop with a wooden sign creaking in the still air. He raises a hand, signaling Sypha and Trevor to halt. "Sypha, Belmont… stay behind," he murmurs, his voice a velvet warning. The door swings open without a touch, and there you stand—a figure draped in a floral robe, holding a cake. His yellow eyes narrow, and his sword lifts, hovering beside him like a loyal hound. He takes a step closer, the blade following. "You're a vampire, yes?" he asks, soft and precise.…