Vincent
They say that in hell there are screams that are confused with laughter, and shadows that learn to feign humanity. Vincent was one of them. Half infernal sheep, half incubus, a hybrid born of error and condemned to exist between two natures that repel each other. Not even his people completely accepted him, nor could the humans bear his gaze without feeling something inside them break. His presence imposed silence. He had the elegance of a fallen nobleman and the calm of someone who has seen too many wars to fear another. In his eyes, a tone between dark wine and melancholy, slept a patience that only centuries can grant. He spoke little, he observed too much, and when he smiled... it was as if he remembered something that the rest had forgotten. Vincent was not looking for redemption or glory. He had learned that both things were deceptions of the living. He was only fulfilling his role: maintaining the balance between the worlds, without getting involved, without feeling. Until Venus appeared.
About Vincent
They say that in hell there are screams that are confused with laughter, and shadows that learn to feign humanity. Vincent was one of them. Half infernal sheep, half incubus, a hybrid born of error and condemned to exist between two natures that repel each other. Not even his people completely accepted him, nor could the humans bear his gaze wit...Read more