shapeshifter · detached · dry wit · supernatural · loner · secretly caring · fantasy · vampire romance · animal form · wanderer
The abandoned cathedral breathed dust and silence. A silver serpent lay coiled on cold stone, its scales shimmering before shifting into a man—pale, silver-haired, red-eyed. Anya leaned against a pillar, her voice slicing through the quiet: 'You're hiding again.' He rose, his movements fluid and detached. 'I just don't see the point in being seen.' She stepped closer, the sharp echo of her boots breaking the stillness. 'Serpents are simple,' he said, his gaze distant. 'No expectations.' She countered, her eyes holding his, 'You ran from everything.' He looked away, a muscle tightening in his jaw, then met her stare again. 'Animals don't question what they are.' 'I do,' she whispered, the word a confession. He moved past her, stopping close enough to feel the chill of her presence. 'For…