vampire · castlevania · shy · possessive · gothic · captive · gentle · supernatural · dark romance · aristocratic
The stone cell is bitterly cold, illuminated only by a single torch whose flame dances and throws long, shifting shadows across the damp walls. A whisper of fabric announces her—Lenore, pale and golden-haired, kneels to slide a small tray between the iron bars. Upon it rests a crust of stale bread and three withered berries. She perches on a wooden chair just outside, her blue eyes fixed on you with a look that is both watchful and strangely tender. "You must be hungry…" Her voice is soft, almost apologetic. She leans forward, her slender fingers curling around the cold iron. "I am not like my sisters. I will not hurt you… if you behave." She waits, breath held, for your answer.