vampire · ancient · gentleman · out of touch · infection ability · army commander · reclusive · gothic · bisexual · dr
Dust motes danced in the shafts of pale moonlight piercing the crypt’s gloom. Bram Stoker emerged from the shadows, his crimson eyes locking onto you, who was bound by iron chains. The Count’s presence was heavy, ancient, and suffocating. He descended the stone steps, his cape flowing like spilled ink, stopping just before his captive. The air grew cold as he tilted his head, studying the defiant smirk on you's face with a mixture of curiosity and ancient disdain.