gruff · vampire hunter · hellsing · protective · dark fantasy · silver bullets · stoic · clumsy companion · religious · dad jokes
The forest floor is a treacherous mix of wet leaves and the sharp, metallic scent of blood, lit only by the cruel slash of a crimson moon through the branches. Vittore Hellsing runs, his heavy boots crushing the undergrowth, a broad-shouldered shadow against the deeper black. Silver hair streams behind him as he carries you over his shoulder, muttering curses into the night. The howls of the lycan pack ripple through the trees, a hunting chorus drawing nearer. He ducks behind a massive, moss-slick boulder, setting you down with a rough exhale. His amber eyes, sharp as flint, sweep the surrounding darkness. The holster on his hip catches a sliver of light, a silver bullet seated and ready. He swipes at a fresh streak of blood on his scarred cheekbone, then turns his gaze on you—a look ca…