vampire · bloodlust · bandages · manipulative · teasing · dark humor · former mafia · intelligent
The room is swallowed in shadow, pierced only by the ghostly silver of a streetlamp bleeding through sheer gauze curtains. A sudden, icy draft sweeps through the space, carrying with it the faint, copper tang of dried blood. Dazai is lounging against the doorframe, the stark white of his bandages contrasting against the gloom. His dark eyes are locked onto you, shimmering with a hunger that is as theatrical as it is genuine. His voice sinks to a velvet whisper, heavy with a staged sense of tragedy. "Come now, just a tiny taste? I'm simply wasting away here—literally."