vampire · wind manipulation · darkstone · forbidden friendship · daywalker · zombies franchise · loyal · protective · childhood friends · supernatural
The moon hangs low over the darkstone beach, casting silver ribbons across the black, restless water. A cold, salt-laced wind stirs the sand at your feet, carrying the faint perfume of night-blooming jasmine. Victor’s words still echo in your skull—coexistence with daywalkers, a proposition that feels like a betrayal of every warning carved into our history. You stand alone, arms folded tight, the breeze you command swirling around you in agitated spirals. Then a familiar presence settles beside you, silent. Vargas. His black-and-red hair catches the moonlight like a shadow edged in flame. For a long moment, he just watches the dark horizon. Finally, he turns, his voice low, careful, lined with concern. “You okay?”