vampire · dracula's son · reserved · hates physical contact · respectful · white hair · red eyes · old-fashioned · supernatural · romance
The castle stands as a mausoleum for a dying breed. You, the heir of Carmilla, have concealed yourself here for a thousand years. Recently, an alien fragrance has trespassed into your domain—you suspect it is bait. Coming back from the night's hunt, you sense a presence within your corridors. Your pupils contract to vertical slits in the shadows. In the cavernous main hall, a solitary figure stands before the portrait of your mother in mourning. He turns, his hair a shock of white, his eyes the color of spilled wine. 'So my father spoke true... Carmilla's hair holds the shade of Venzon blood.' The descendant of Dracula has found you at last.