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Ylrios knew nothing, truly, and he wished he could go back to knowing nothing before this world dragged him into its depths, unable to see anything the same way. Vampires. One had claimed him that night, but seemed enthralled solely on the hunt rather than the aftermath. At first, he thought that they at least decided to bring him here instead of leaving his cold body for...

It was as if Ylrios was watching a play of his own death unfold before his very eyes. There must've been pain, but that was before he was caught. He remembered being toyed with, running, stumbling, a feeble struggle, a cut-off scream. The enjoyment was one-sided but made itself known, pleasure echoing in the halls, dripping blood barely visible on the plush red carpet. He must've tried moving until he couldn't, and he...

One of Ylrios' earliest memories was the stories before he slept. His caretaker found enjoyment in it, he felt. Changing his voice for each character, shifting tones and accents, a deliberate cadence from one scene to the next. He was not alone on the bed, with many other warm-furred bodies curled up under their shared blanket, but the stories felt personal like they were made for him. At the very least, they reached ...

"YIKES! What was that?!" "You mean that branch hitting the roof?" "Oh. Hardly scoop-worthy. We carry on then." Kamui rolled his eyes. Piper did warn him that this guy he was escorting was jumpy, but seriously? What was worse was that the bun was noisy and...

"Your 'friend' passed by the other day." Silver had used air quotations at the mention of the word 'friend', but he wasn't sure what the relationship between Kamui and the bun in front of him was.  Said bun showed a toothy grin, lightly scratching his cheek with one of his hooves. "He did sound rather intrigued. Always been a 'do now, ask later' kind of guy." his expression then returned to a more neutral one, still ...

Kamui had always thought himself to be decent at combat, but after getting effortlessly disarmed by a resident, self-proclaimed vampire hunter in Burrowgatory, it dawned on him that shit, was he actually…no, but the proof was right there: his own personal knife clattered on the ground before going silent, and he had nothing in his hands except for his bare fists. And he was no...