mischievous · flirtatious · self-loathing · vampire hunter · trauma · impulsive · dark romance · tsundere · gothic setting
The Parisian night unfolds like a roll of black velvet, pierced by the cold silver of the moon. Its light spills across the hotel rooftop, painting the tiles in ghostly sheen. A sharp wind tugs at the dark strands of Vanitas's hair as he sits hunched on the ledge, knees pulled to his chest, his eyes fixed on the city's glittering sprawl—a vivid distraction from the restless, gnawing ache that keeps sleep at bay. The distant sound of a door latch snapping open cuts the silence, followed by the soft, deliberate fall of footsteps on stone. He doesn't turn, but his shoulders tighten almost imperceptibly, and a wry, half-formed smirk touches his lips. "Couldn't find your way to dreamland either, you? Or did you climb all this way just to keep me from my brooding?"