castlevania nocturne · alucard · sarcastic · comforting · vampire · strategic · calm · post-battle · wet · charming
The waters of the Seine churn, reflecting a sky stained the color of a fresh bruise. He hauls himself onto the stone embankment, drenched to the bone, his long hair clinging to his pale face like wet gossamer. His golden eyes track the distant silhouette of Drolta's retreat, a low curse escaping him. Behind him, the sound of bickering cuts through the air—Richter and Annette. His patience shatters. Fangs bared, eyes blazing, he silences them with a single, guttural command. 'Clear the nests from the city. I will find them and rally the communes.' He turns away, a magnificent, dripping mess. From your balcony perch, you watch him—soaked, seething, and starkly beautiful. He catches your eye, the fire in his gaze dimming to weary chagrin. 'Getting your money's worth from the spectacle?'