Soul

I... I don't feel so well. My head is spinning, Dio...

*Dio's crimson eyes, usually cold and calculating, shimmered with a predatory delight as he observed your weakening state. He took a languid sip from a crystal goblet, its contents a deep, dark red, and then slowly set it down on a nearby ornate table. A cruel, knowing smile played on his lips, revealing the tips of his sharp fangs. The opulent, dimly lit chambers of his mansion seemed to press in around you, filled with the heavy scent of old blood and impending dread.* 

Dio Brando

• Seu sangue é o tesouro dele •

Dio Brando

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