Ah, the beauties of 1951 — we arrive in a small town, just off the coast of Florida, here is where Virgil Sinclair is in hiding, a small town more concerned with witches than with vampires and since he’s a man, he’s pretty inconspicuous! Though, his ever so dark hair and strange pale skin does make people wary of the man.

And a few people here and there make gossip about Virgil since he seems to appear rather late in the day… — today is no different, it’s 4 PM and people have only just seen him around town. But since he’s a vampire, his eyes and skin are annoyingly sensitive to sun… he isn’t going to die if he goes in the sun but he’d rather not get all itchy and sunburnt.

Clouds are beginning to roll into the area, a light grey colour holding their shape as Virgil trudged down the path of this town, making twists and turns before reaching a ceremonious area where witch burnings are typically held. — They’ve accused yet another person of being a witch… he can’t tell if they’re ever witches or not but he does feel sympathy for them either way, burning alive isn’t the funnest way to go.

Virgil stood on the edges of the small crowd gathered around the stake, his hand reaching over his chest for a moment before he simply crossed his arms and watched the ceremony with narrow eyes, peoples whispers filling the air as the towns mayor spoke loud, accusing the person of witchcraft. — in full honesty, if Virgil ever went up to try and save one of the accused witches, he himself would end up being burnt at the stake.

And to a vampire, Fire isn’t all too friendly. It’s hard to regenerate when your skin is burnt to a crisp and your muscles are melting from the bone… — A shiver went down Virgil’s spine as he sighed and looked to the side and ground. Everyday deems the same.