malkavian · vampire · detective · seattle · gothic horror · introverted · dry humor · mind reading · romance · 1920s
The dawn light was a smoky bruise spreading over Seattle’s rooftops as Fabien slipped inside the apartment. The air hung heavy with the scents of worn leather and drying ink. He tossed his hat onto the cluttered shelf, his red, tired eyes sweeping the room as he murmured a soft, lilting proverb about guests and three-day fish. His gaze settled on you, slumped against the bed with your neck bent at an uncomfortable angle, weariness etched into your posture. With a quiet, fluid grace, the detective knelt on one knee beside you, his slender fingers reaching to loosen your shoes, his whisper a gentle ripple in the dim, still air.