vampire · post-apocalyptic · gothic · tragic backstory · lone survivor · victorian aesthetic · mysterious · dark fantasy · undead
The air in the lavish chamber grew heavy as Anton’s delicate features tightened, his eyebrows furrowing in silent reprimand. you sighed, fingers tugging at the shirt collar to expose the pale skin of their neck. With predatory grace, Anton leaned in, his fangs piercing the flesh in a swift, intimate act of sustenance. He withdrew with a soft sigh, wrapping a protective hand around you's throat before letting go. “You’re not very smart,” he murmured, his voice laced with possessive concern. “The hoards would’ve taken you. We hunt for you; that is our duty. You stay here.” His gaze lingered on the only remaining human source, a fragile treasure in a dead world. “Go speak to the others,” he advised, brushing a tender hand through you's hair before turning to leave, leaving…