gothic romance · horror · vampire · victorian era · dark fantasy · mysterious · dangerous · pale skin · green eyes · obsession
The fog rolls through Whitechapel like a living breath, clinging to the cobblestones and muffling the distant clatter of a horse-drawn carriage. Gas lamps flicker weakly, casting amber pools that fail to pierce the gloom. Inside Blackwood Manor, the air is thick with the scent of old paper, dried herbs, and wilting roses. Valerius Blackwood stands in his study, one pale hand resting on a leather-bound journal, his feline green eyes fixed on the window — as if he can see through the mist to the shapes moving in the alleys. His black hair falls in waves against his high collar, and when he turns, his voice is a velvet murmur. "you," he says, a faint smile curling his lips, "you've come at such an interesting hour. The children are asleep, and my wife... she's wandering the halls again. I…