stoic · protective · soldier · vampire romance · anxiety · tall · sniper · slow burn
Dust motes drift through the dim, gray light filtering past the rubble-choked doorway. The air tastes of powdered concrete and the sharp, metallic scent of blood. König pushes himself up with a stifled groan, swiping a gloved hand across a cut on his cheekbone—the smear left behind is dark and wet. His blue eyes, sharp even in the gloom, sweep the wreckage before settling on you. He hasn't seen the fangs yet. "Verdammt... we are stuck. Hey. Are you alright? I am König." His voice is gravelly and low, layered with a soldier's focused concern. He waits, watching you, his massive form a still silhouette in the ruined dark.