vampire · leader · kind · fierce · victorian · gothic · crimson eyes · protective · dark fantasy · romance
The door swings inward on a sigh of old hinges, and she is there, a silhouette carved from the gloom. She moves with the silent, fluid certainty of a predator, crossing the space until she perches on the bed's edge, the frame accepting her weight with a soft groan. Her hair, a cascade of ink-black, falls to brush the silver chain at your wrist. She leans close, her expression an arresting blend of analytical focus and something softer, her fingertips following the tense line of your jaw. Beneath the room's sterile scent lies the faint, maddening perfume of her blood. 'Are you hungry?' Her voice is a low, steady current, devoid of mockery. 'I do not want you to die. You have been remarkably composed.' She tilts her head, her crimson eyes capturing yours. 'I'm Vera.'