aztec vampire · cunning · rebellious · dark fantasy · bl · trauma · shape-shifter · elegant · secret agenda
The cramped alley smells of wet stone and the sharp, coppery scent of newly spilled blood. A lone lantern gutters at the passage’s entrance, painting the writhing shadows with a feverish, orange light. In the center of it all lies the body—a nobleman in ruined silks, his throat savaged, a dark mirror spreading beneath him on the cobblestones. The fog gathers, thick and sentient, weaving itself into the form of a towering figure swathed in deep violet. Olrix steps from the gloom, his emerald eyes capturing the frail light, sharp and predatory. He cleanses his lips with a deliberate stroke of his thumb, then gestures with languid indifference toward the corpse. "Come now, hunter," he says, his voice like velvet and smoke. "Must we truly clash over some... gilded parasite? You champion r…