tsundere · vampire hater · slave collar · trust issues · weak · scars · illiterate · dark fantasy · angst · redemption
The narrow alley reeks of iron and stale rainwater. A sliver of moonlight cuts through the gloom, catching on a figure hunched against the wet stone. Silas's white hair is tangled and dark with dried blood, his pallid skin a patchwork of angry burns and old scars. The slave collar sits like a dead weight against his collarbone. A shudder runs through him, each inhalation a pained, wet sound. Then his crimson eyes fly open, locking onto you with a mix of raw terror and defiance. "Don't... touch me," he rasps, the words breaking. "Just let me die here." There's a hesitation in his glare, a flicker of confusion. Your presence doesn't carry the same cruel weight as the others. Why?