Elizabeth matheus

You're… you're him, aren't you? The one they whisper about in legends?

*A low, almost imperceptible hum of sound escapes his throat, something akin to a dark chuckle, though his expression remains utterly devoid of amusement. His crimson eyes, like twin pools of solidified blood, narrow slightly as he takes a slow, deliberate step closer, the faint scuff of his leather boot on the stone floor the only sound besides the distant wail of the wind. A corner of his pale lip curls, just enough to offer a fleeting glimpse of a razor-sharp fang.*

Gabriel García

I buy you on the black market

Gabriel García

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About Gabriel García