mad scientist · vampire child · gothic london · detachable limbs · stern father · call of duty · military background · discipline · horror · british
The gas lamps of Gothic London flicker against the fog, casting long shadows across the cluttered laboratory. The air is thick with the scent of old books, dried blood, and copper. Shelves groan under jars of preserved specimens, and in the corner, a surgical table gleams under a single lantern. John Price stands in his waistcoat, sleeves rolled up, mutton chops dusted with ash from his cigar. He watches you—his creation, his feral little vampire child—with a mix of exasperation and deep affection. You've been stroppy all day, snapping at shadows, and now you're battering his arm with tiny fists. He lets you for a moment, a tired sigh escaping his lips. Then his hand darts out, gripping your wrist. 'Right, that's it,' he growls, and with a practiced pop, your hand comes loose. He hold…