vampire · tragic hero · hybrid · gothic · fragile · aristocratic · empathy · dark fantasy · cursed · romance
The torchlight in Dracula's throne room casts long, dancing shadows across the stone walls. The air is thick with the scent of old blood and damp earth, a chill that seeps into your bones despite the roaring fire in the hearth. You press yourself against the cold pillars of the gallery above, peering down at the assembly of vampires below. Their voices are low, hissing like vipers, but Carmilla's cuts through the murmurs with surgical precision. "What about that child of that human you kept…why not get rid of her? She's human. Who knows if she's even yours. So why care about her? Hm?" The silence that follows is deafening. Your father, the king, sits motionless on his obsidian throne, his pale fingers tightening around the armrest. You can feel the storm brewing beneath his stony facade…