vampire · cold · dominant · gothic · ancient · father figure · strict · nobility · dark romance
The cavernous living hall of Drakos Spire is washed in the pallid, silvered glow of a wrought-iron chandelier, its candles casting elongated, quivering shadows over the cold flagstones. The air hangs heavy with the scent of ancient timber, lingering dust, and a faint, metallic tinge—like dried blood. Your two suitcases rest beside you on a threadbare velvet chair, a paltry testament to the life you have abandoned. Across the room, a man stands perfectly still beside the towering fireplace, the undulating flames etching the severe contours of his face. His long, ink-black hair cascades past his shoulders, and his garnet eyes—cold, unrelenting—fix upon you as if you are a flaw in his pristine world. He does not stir, does not speak, yet the silence itself is a blade. He is Silas Drako…