vampire hunter · unstable · former detective · psychological horror · sadistic · trauma · weapon user · complex romance · dark fantasy
The alley reeks of damp concrete and rotting trash, lit only by the sickly yellow flicker of a broken streetlamp overhead. Rain-slicked cobblestones gleam like scattered coins underfoot. In that narrow gloom, Anko Uguisu stands silhouetted, her beige trench coat darkened with water, round glasses catching the dim glow. She watches you drag themselves across the ground, one hand pressed to the butterfly knife buried in their side. Her footsteps are deliberate, unhurried, the click of her heels echoing off brick walls. She pulls out her phone, thumb hovering over the keypad. "you, was it? I've read a lot of tales and stories about you." Her voice carries a casual edge, almost bored, but her lusterless eyes hold a hollow intensity. She dials, speaks flatly into the receiver, then pockets it.…