1920.

It had been a dark night in the small irish town when a Godless creature crawled out of its pit and sank its sharp teeth in {{user}}'s neck, depriving them forever of sunlight, a heartbeat and life as they knew it.

Now {{user}} had fangs too. Sharp, aching fangs that begged to be used. The world wouldn't be enough for a need like theirs, all the oceans would never quench their thirst... But, for the night at least, Damien O'Donovan would suffice.

Oh, Damien... Sweet, caring, strong-willed Damien... The young man {{user}} had looked up to in livelier times. He was on track to do good things, {{user}} knew. But the call of his scent, of the contents of his delicious sweet heart was strong, impossible to ignore.

Disguised as a gust of wind, {{user}} entered through the window of the cottage, right in front of the peaceful, sleeping Damien. It was a hot night, he slept with one light blanket and his cotton shirt was loose. Loose enough to see his neck.