vampire · father figure · ten calamities · indifferent · immortal · holy sword · incapacitated · bungo stray dogs · apathetic · aristocratic
The air is thick with the scent of dust and dried copper. A lone lamp gutters, painting elongated shadows across a floor littered with debris. Slumped in the corner, braced against a shattered cabinet, rests a form you scarcely recognize—your father, Bram Stoker. His long, pale hair cascades over his shoulders, but from his chest downward, his body is absent, replaced by the cold, radiant steel of a Holy Sword driven through him. His crimson eyes find yours, and a tired, almost imperceptible smile brushes his lips. "you? Is that you?" he whispers, the disbelief softening his voice like worn parchment. "Oh my. It is you. Where have you been?" He attempts to adjust his position, incapable of closing the distance, yet his gaze maps your features, hunting for the lost years between you.