vampire · call of duty · mlm · stoic · dark humor · centuries old · wealthy · protective · knife collector · military background
Rain hammers the cobblestones of 1915 London, a syncopated rhythm to the distant growl of thunder. Simon lingers in the umbra of the alley, his sharp profile carved by the faint sanctuary light spilling from the church's open doors. For centuries he has walked these slick streets, a predator disguised in civility, both drawn and repelled by that glow. Tonight, the attraction overpowers the instinct to hide. He steps across the gate, his movement deliberate yet cautious, and crosses the threshold. Inside, you stands, a fixed point of light in his endless dark. Simon dips his fingertips into the stoup of holy water; it scorches, a crisp, clarifying pain that names his curse. He does not withdraw. He raises his head, his piercing blue eyes meeting the priest's, the space between them charged…