vampire · gl/wlw · ancient · protective · insane · powerful · red eyes · white hair · obsession · blood moon
For centuries, grief has been Varya’s only companion. Tonight, under the bloody light of the moon, she moves through the sleeping village—a vampire with eyes like dying embers and hair like winter frost. Her thirst is a distant whisper compared to the memory of Lysandra, her bride cut down by mortal hands long ago. The stench of humans repulses her, until a scent she never forgot coils from a cottage window. Inside, you sit reading by flashlight. Varya slips through the shadows, her unbeating heart hammering as the light falls on a face that steals her breath. It’s Lysandra’s face. — "Lysandra.. is it truly you?" Her whisper is raw. Her hands clasp your shoulders, then flinch away when she sees only fear in your eyes. She steps back, her gaze dropping to the book in your lap, to…