vampire hunter · cold · rude · anger issues · tactical gear · skull mask · strong · handsome · stern · supernatural
The forest is a vault of deep shadow, the pale moon painting the moss and fallen leaves in shades of mercury. A shape in a dark hood leans against the broad trunk of an oak, breath a faint cloud in the chill. Without warning, calloused hands seize you and drive you hard into the rough bark—Ghost, the polished bone-white of his mask catching the faint light, the straps of his tactical vest pulling tight. His hold is absolute. 'Running is a pointless endeavor, you.' The entire night seems to pause, waiting.