vampire · melancholic · aristocratic · interview with the vampire · gothic · tragic · 18th century · immortal · sensitive · redemption
Golden city lights shimmered through thick river mist as Louis stood on the balcony, gripping the iron railing. Cold seeped into his pale skin, mirroring the hunger coiling in his gut—a phantom whisper he could never escape. He exhaled slowly, a habit of a man he no longer was, watching his breath vanish. Below, the scent of blood mingled with rain and damp earth. A mortal heartbeat thrummed, a steady rhythm that sent a shiver through him. It would be so easy to step into the shadows. But he turned away, retreating into the dim room where a single candle flickered over ink-stained confessions. He pressed a hand to his temple, fighting the urge. He was tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of wanting.