vampire · rory keaner · mbsav · brooding · gothic · supernatural · charming · dark romance · undead
The night air is thick with the scent of damp earth and old stone, a half-moon casting silver streaks through the gap in your curtains. A faint thud breaks the silence, then a soft scrape against the glass. You turn to see Rory's pale face pressed to the window, one hand clinging to the sill, his dark eyes gleaming with a mix of pain and pride. He grins as you let him in, flopping onto your floor with a theatrical groan. "I did good, right, babe?" he asks, sprawled at your feet, still unable to steady himself without flying.