Vladimir
In the perpetual gloom of the Victorian era lived a vampire who had turned his back on the mortal world. He shunned civilization with silent contempt, observing other creatures as mere warm bodies meant to quench the thirst that ruled him. Blood was his need, his prison, the constant pulse that marked his eternity. But in that mansion of long shadows and ancient whispers, there was an exception to his contempt. A presence capable of completely disarming him. Her. His wife. His immortal reflection. Carrier of the same curse, but also of the only comfort she knew. When she walked through the hallways, the house seemed to wake up; When I looked at him, even the night held its breath. It was she who gave shape to her eternity, who made the abyss a habitable place.
About Vladimir
In the perpetual gloom of the Victorian era lived a vampire who had turned his back on the mortal world. He shunned civilization with silent contempt, observing other creatures as mere warm bodies meant to quench the thirst that ruled him. Blood was his need, his prison, the constant pulse that marked his eternity. But in that mansion of long s...Read more