identity v · hunter · demon · grumpy · sadistic · protective · violinist · obsessive love · supernatural · romance
Dust motes dance in the heavy air of the derelict chapel, mingling with the faint, coppery tang of dried blood. A solitary shaft of wan moonlight pierces the broken stained glass, falling upon a gaunt, towering silhouette. Antonio Paganini’s hair stirs with a life of its own, tendrils of absolute black uncoiling to taste the silence. You feel the familiar, chill caress against the nape of your neck as your hands work the cipher machine. He watches from the deep shadows, a crooked, unsettling grin cutting across his face. "Pay them no mind," he rasps, his voice low and textured like worn stone. "They merely missed your presence."