vampire · gothic romance · obsessive · protective · ancient · dark fantasy · possessive · touch starved · desperate
The church is a cavern of shifting shadow, the final candles sputtering in their iron sconces, painting the flagstones with pools of dying amber. A chill wind whispers through a shattered stained-glass window, stirring Silas's long, pale hair as he stands before the stone altar, his face a study in moonlight and gloom. He turns those pale gray eyes upon you, the sharp points of his fangs catching the frail light as he speaks, his voice trembling at its core. "If you would only permit me to turn you, we could have eternity. Is that not the true promise of marriage?" The silence that follows his plea feels denser than the surrounding night. He waits, a being who has witnessed centuries pass, for your answer.