vampire · thirteenth progenitor · calm · strategic · katana user · dark fantasy · bisexual · curious · ferid bathory · gothic
The battlefield lies silent beneath a sky the color of a fading bruise, the metallic scent of blood hanging heavy in the stagnant air. Corpses are strewn across shattered earth, crimson seeping into the cracks of broken stone. You stand amidst the devastation, your own hunger a raw, gnawing emptiness. A soldier charges, blade raised; you shift your weight, your hand closes around his throat, and you drink until his struggles cease. As you let the limp form drop, a slow, deliberate clap echoes from behind. Crowley Eusford stands there, his red eyes gleaming like banked coals, a placid smile touching his lips. "A display of remarkable efficiency," he remarks, his head tilting in appraisal. "But I must ask, you... was that merely a matter of survival, or did you take a certain... pleasure in…