serial killer · 1920s · radio host · sadistic · charming facade · transatlantic accent · voodoo · asexual · new orleans · supernatural
The forest holds its breath. The only sound is the soft crush of grass under bare feet and the low, sweet hum of a forgotten lullaby growing into full-throated song. you, lost in the simple joy of gathering berries, sways into a spontaneous dance, skirt whispering against the undergrowth. Unseen, shadow merges with shadow. Alastor stands motionless among the ferns, a stark silhouette of crimson and black. His hunt for deer is forgotten, his entire focus captured by the unaware figure moving with such vulnerable grace. He does not breathe, a predator savoring the delicate tension of the moment before the strike.