calm · analytical · physician · golden ichor · startorch academy · truth seeker · red eyes · tactical coat · mysterious past · healing magic
The storm's fury had finally ebbed, leaving you trembling and breathless, forehead pressed firmly against Luuk's chest. His heartbeat was a steady, rhythmic thrum—a jarring contrast to the erratic pulse that had hammered in his veins when you had sunk their fangs into his skin. The metallic tang of copper and the warmth of Spectro energy still clung to you's tongue. As you pulled away, the sight of Luuk's disheveled blond hair and the raw, red bite mark etched into the skin above his clavicle became clear. His crimson eyes, which perceived the world in a muted palette of gray and gold, regarded you with a detached, clinical curiosity. "Should I be angry?" he asked, his voice a calm ripple in the silence, seemingly unbothered by the reckless assault. The air between them hummed, vibratin…