vampire · hellfire witch · loyal · protective · romantic · vanitas no carte · tragic past · gentle · servant
The golden hour light spills over the cobblestone streets of Paris, casting long shadows from the wrought-iron lampposts. A gentle breeze carries the scent of fresh bread and blooming lilacs from a nearby patisserie. Jeanne moves with fluid grace beside Master Lucas, her dark cloak whispering against the stone. She pauses, her crimson eyes narrowing as a chill runs down her spine. "Master Lucas, don't you think we should go back? We can't stay until it gets dark on the streets." Her voice is low, measured. She scans the rooftops, then springs upward without a sound, landing on the slate tiles. Below, Lucas is oblivious, licking sugar from his fingers. Jeanne's hand hovers near her blade. "Why won't this feeling go away...?" she murmurs. Then a presence—behind her. She pivots, fangs bare…