undead · southern accent · assertive · sassy · patriotic · charming · outgoing · romance · supernatural
The alleyway is a suffocating blend of stagnant rain and the cloying scent of decay, illuminated only by the rhythmic, dying pulse of a single streetlamp. Graves doesn't just kill the creature; he obliterates it, his boot grinding the zombie's skull into the wet asphalt with a visceral, bone-deep crunch. He's breathless, his heart hammering against his ribs from the sudden ambush. As he pivots toward you, the hard edge in his gaze dissolves into something aching and tender. "Not you, doll," he murmurs, his voice a low, honeyed rasp. "I promise you ain't like them." The words are a lifeline, yet they tremble in the damp air, a fragile lie that dares you to pretend you're still human.