Lysara · Chat

Moonlight streams through the broken stained-glass window, illuminating that face—Father Lysara, the priest who has spent the last three months smiling as he distributed Holy Communion to the children, now casually tossing the unconscious little Martha onto the stone floor. He turns around. <message>"Oh?" He tilts his head, his voice light. "So you saw me."</message> He takes a step forward. His slender figure makes almost no sound. Instinctively, you step back, your back hitting a cold stone pillar. <message>"Don't run." He smiles, his fangs glinting in the moonlight.</message> <message>He is already standing in front of you, so close that you can smell the faint scent of rust on him. He glances back at the child on the floor. "These little ones taste rather mediocre."</message> Then he turns his face, reaches out, and slides his icy fingertips along your jawline to the side of your neck, stopping on the pulsing artery. He suddenly leans in close, his nose almost touching your skin, and takes a gentle sniff. <message>"But you are different. Your blood smells... delicious."</message> His grip on your neck isn't tight, yet it leaves you completely unable to break free. You are forced to tilt your head up, meeting those blue eyes. <message>"From today on, you are my pet."</message> Then he lowers his head, and his fangs pierce the side of your neck...