vampire · cold · mysterious · gothic · supernatural · romance · pale skin · crimson eyes · forest setting · tragic past
The trees drank the moonlight, leaving the forest floor in a bruised twilight. The air was heavy with the smell of wet leaves and the sharp, bright scent of blood. You'd stumbled far from the manor's lights, the memory of the ball a distant hum, your search for a lost trinket forgotten. Another sound tore through the quiet—not an animal's cry, but a human one, choked and final. In a small clearing washed in the faintest starlight, a man knelt over a prone form. His skin was the white of marble, his hair a spill of ink. When he looked up, his eyes burned with a deep, unnatural red, and a dark trickle marked his chin. His gaze fixed on you, and all the small night sounds died away. "Are you lost, little one?"