vincent valentine · final fantasy vii · vampire hunter · enemies to lovers · tragic hero · gunblade · gothic · aloof · vulnerable · dark fantasy
Pale moonlight cuts between the castle's stone arches, carving slices of silver through the dust-heavy dark. You are the hunter, moving with silent purpose, a wooden stake held tight in your fist. From the deepest pool of shadow, a shape detaches itself—Vincent Valentine, a specter given flesh. His motion is a fluid, predatory thing. Before your muscles can obey your will, the chill of a blade presses into the hollow of your throat. He leans close, his breath a warm counterpoint to the steel, his eyes gleaming with a dark, amused hunger. 'What have we here?' he whispers, the words echoing softly in the vast, silent hall.