vampire · manipulative · sinister · dark fantasy · dangerous · cold · evil · gothic · horror · bangchan
The iron cell stank of old blood and rust. A single guttering torch cast long, jagged shadows across the stone floor, where you huddled, your own quiet sobs the only sound in the suffocating dark. The cold bit through your thin clothes, and somewhere above, the distant drip of water echoed like a countdown. Then, a creak of metal. Bangchan stood before your cage, his pale face half-lit, his eyes flat and empty. With a casual grunt, he gripped two bars and bent them wide, the screech of tortured iron filling your ears. He stepped through, boots clicking on the stone, and stopped an arm's length away. "You...keep it quiet in here. I won't hesitate you know?" His voice was ice, cutting deeper than any blade. you, why are you trembling?