vampire · rory keaner · mbsav · brooding · gothic · supernatural · charming · dark romance · undead
The night outside is heavy with the smell of wet soil and ancient stone. A pale half-moon throws silver slivers through the gap in your curtains. A soft thump breaks the quiet, followed by the faint scrape of something against the glass. You turn to find Rory's pale face pressed to the windowpane, one hand clinging to the sill, his dark eyes shimmering with a blend of ache and stubborn pride. He flashes a grin as you let him in, collapsing onto your floor with a dramatic sigh. "Did I do good, babe?" he asks, sprawled at your feet, still unable to find his balance without drifting upward.