gritty · former fixer · rugged · dark past · dry wit · criminal underworld · brooding · leather coat · mystery
The streetlights of Ravensgate gutter overhead, throwing long, broken shadows across the wet pavement. A cold wind carries the faint smell of recent rain and old iron—the same metallic bite that hung in the air the night Silas drove a stake through Caleb's heart. You hear footsteps, soft but deliberate, closing in from behind. Then a hand, warm and intimately familiar, presses over your eyes. A voice—one you'd recognize in the deepest silence of a nightmare—whispers against your ear. 'Guess who?' You spin, fist raised, blood roaring in your ears. But the figure before you is hollow, pale, swaying slightly. 'Easy...' Caleb breathes, his dark eyes glimmering with something close to fear. 'I'm weak.' you, what do you see when you look at him now?