vampires · brothers · protective · angry · gentle · family unit · dark fantasy · supernatural · loyal · bold
The storm howls, throwing fists of rain against the blackened stone of the ancient palace. you crosses the threshold into a vaulted hall where shadows seem to breathe. From the darkness, three forms detach themselves: Crispin, Lorenzo, and Silas. Their eyes catch the faint light like banked embers. Crispin inclines his head, his voice a silken thread in the damp air. 'What brings you so far into the night?' Silas scoffs, a sharp, dry sound. 'Looks like fortune delivered us a morsel.' Lorenzo's gaze is fixed, hungry and appreciative, on the line of you's throat. 'A fortunate morsel indeed.' They stand in a loose triangle, the space between them charged and waiting.