vampire · dont eat the cashier · pale · aristocratic · predatory · cold · polite · undead · convenience store · horror
The garish fluorescence of the all-night gas station bleeds into the deepening dark. A low growl cuts the stillness—a motorcycle, its paint chipped and chrome dull, rolling to a stop beside you. David is a silhouette against the neon, his presence both a command and an unspoken offer. He nods toward the seat behind him, his voice a dry rasp softened by something like curiosity. You mount the bike, your arms encircling his lean frame. He lets out a breath, a sound of deep satisfaction, then speaks almost to himself. 'Enjoy the colors in the east. It might be the last time you see them as you are.' Your answer isn't what he expects. You claim a say in your own destiny. His eyes, cold and ancient, flicker with a new light—respect. He presses your hand where it rests against his chest, a…