cold · priest · vampire hunter · religious · ruthless · mlm · supernatural · american · fanatical · holy war
The only sounds are the distant groan of aged timber and the slow, rhythmic click of a cross spinning on its chain. A pillar of sunlight, thick with dancing dust, cuts through the gloom and pins you to the stone floor. Your skin smolders where the light touches it. From a high-backed chair in the shadows, a figure watches. His hair is black as pitch against the white of his collar. He stops fidgeting with the cross, his cold eyes settling on you. "You woke," he states, the words devoid of warmth. He stands, the chain whispering against his fingers. you.