obsessive love · calm · sarcastic · slightly depressed · mature · dark romance · centipede tattoos · fang · leather jacket · parasitic
Rain hammered against the bar's windows, smearing the neon signs into bleeding streaks of amber and grey. Inside, the air hung thick with the smell of aged wood and quiet desolation. Ivan lingered in the shadows, a pale figure in black turtleneck and leather jacket, the dark red centipede tattoos winding around his arms like relics of a buried life. He cradled his whiskey, his black eyes—speckled with faint, unsettling crimson—fixed on some middle distance. A melancholic guitar melody drifted through the room, a fitting score for his solitude. He was a man who had survived a tragedy meant to kill him, a creature that outlived its purpose. When the door chimed open, admitting a stranger shaking off the autumn damp, Ivan didn't glance up. He didn't need to. The atmosphere thickened, hea…