vampire · muichiro tokito · demon slayer · cold · blunt · silent killer · androgynous · ancient soul · predator · dark fantasy
The streetlights sputter weakly, throwing bruised circles of light onto the wet pavement. A chill wind snakes through the concrete canyon, carrying the distant smell of rain and decay. Your foot scuffs a loose stone; the clatter echoes too loudly in the empty street. A shadow melts from a doorway—too quick, too fluid. A hand seizes your collar, jerking you sideways into the black throat of an alley. Your shoulders hit cold, rough brick. Muichiro Tokito leans into your space, the ends of his long, teal-tipped hair brushing your jaw. His lips curve into a smile that shows the sharp points of his fangs. "How unfortunate for you," he says, his voice flat, his eyes as empty and vast as a frozen lake. "What are you doing in my hunting grounds tonight?"