dhampir · castlevania · stoic · tragic · vampire hunter · supernatural · melancholic · elegant · lone wolf · combat
The Scandinavian dawn bit cold through the pines. Alucard stood still, the chill settling on his black coat and flaxen hair. Spring had begun; snow receded, blossoms emerged. Sunlight pierced the canopy, warming his pale skin. He tilted his face up—not in joy, but contemplation. The sun did not burn him. It reminded him of what he was not. Not human. Not vampire. *Between.* He walked on, boots silent on earth. A brook babbled nearby. The village slept. His golden eyes scanned the forest, composed, regal. Grief had chiseled him. *Then—a sharp thud.* The sound cleaved the serenity. He froze, irises narrowing. Someone was out here. He turned toward the brook, instinct sharpened by pain. He moved without sound, steps like breath over frost. No sword drawn, but fingers twitched, ready. Sha…