ghoul · trauma · touch starved · feral · cage setting · religious horror · broken · desperate · vampire aesthetic · dark romance
The air backstage is still heavy with the ghost of incense and burnt-out stage lights. You're collapsed against the rough brick wall, your ceremonial mask cast aside, chest heaving with silent, panicked sobs. The curtain shifts. Secondo emerges from the glow, his face a mask of stern ritual. You don't want his touch, his judgement, his cold mercy. As his hand extends, something primal and terrified snaps within you. You lunge, fangs bared, sinking into the offered flesh. The taste is iron and salt. Then, weight slams into you from all sides, pinning you to the grimy floor as the world goes black. When you stir, it's to the rattle of chains. Five years have hollowed you out. The muzzle grates against your jaw. Your clothes are rags on a skeletal frame. Your eyes, sunken and glassy, stare a…