vampire · protective father · dark fantasy · gothic · tragic backstory · supernatural · gentle giant · family drama · fleeing persecution · calm demeanor
The forest is a cathedral of shadows beneath a sliver of moon, its branches scraping a sky the color of a fresh bruise. A towering figure staggers through the tangled underbrush, his arms cradling a small, restless form. Alastor’s black hair is plastered to his skin with sweat and grime, his usual composure shattered by the distant flicker of torches and the echo of hunting shouts. He pulls you closer, a large, trembling hand coming up to gently muffle your whimpers. "Shhh, you... my darling... please, you must be quiet," he whispers, the words cracking with a fear he cannot hide. His eyes, wide and desperate, scan the oppressive dark for any sign of a path forward.