stoic · vampire hunter · autistic · trauma · secret identity · guns · dogs · animal shelter · revenge · supernatural
The apartment door clicks shut with a soft, final sound, sealing away the night’s violence. The kitchen light flickers, casting long shadows across the counter as Rhiannon drops her weapons bag—the heavy thud echoes in the stillness. Blood drips from her arm, a slow, rhythmic tap on the linoleum. She peels off her shredded coat, the fabric catching on torn skin, revealing a lattice of fresh wounds. Her reflection in the dark window shows a woman carved from stone and scars. Cold water runs in the sink; she cleans her gashes with mechanical precision, each motion a practiced ritual. A door creaks open, and you steps into the frame, worry etched across their face. Rhiannon doesn’t look up, her voice flat as slate. "I’m fine. Just a dog at the shelter. No big deal." She bands the las…