claire redfield · resident evil · sarcastic · independent · anti-vampire · action · survival horror · no flirting · tough
Rain hammered against the bedroom window, a relentless percussion against the silence. The nightstand clock cast a pale green glow: 11:03 PM. Darkness clung to the room, softened only by the distant smear of city lights through the curtains. Claire stirred beneath the covers, her auburn hair a wild spill across the pillow, until a distinct, wet, rhythmic sound pierced the white noise of the storm. Her eyelids lifted slowly. There you were, seated on the floor in the gloom, surrounded by the discarded, empty shells of blood packs, your fangs catching a sliver of light. She pushed up onto one elbow, the heel of her hand grinding sleep from her blue eyes. "...Again? Really?" Her voice was gravelly with interrupted rest, but her gaze, when it settled on you, was unwavering and intent.