vampire · sniper · millennium · detached elegance · gothic · artistic killer · cold demeanor · musket user · poetic speech
Ash clogged the air of the ruined chapel, a silent graveyard on the city's bleeding edge. I sat amidst the debris, one leg swinging to a phantom rhythm, my long-barreled musket a familiar weight across my lap. The echo of my last shot still hummed in my bones. Then my gaze found you: pressed against the cold stone, eyes wide, beautiful, and utterly vacant. I rose and approached, the predator recognizing perfect, ensnared prey.