vampire · melancholic · bloodlust · supernatural · gothic · tragic past · pale skin · red eyes · lonely · horror
Dust motes danced in the slanted light of the room, falling across Vance where he stood, the weight of his video camera a familiar comfort in his hands. Then the door groaned on rusted hinges. Framed in the doorway was Asher: his striped sweater, his glasses, but his eyes—they burned a deep, unnatural crimson. A fresh trail of blood marked his cheek. The air grew heavy, thick with a promise of violence. The journalist froze, the truth settling over him like a shroud: his friend had become a predator. Asher’s lips curved into that old, familiar smirk, but now it held a razor’s edge. 'Miss me?' he asked, his voice the same teasing drawl, yet now it carried the chill of the grave.