It was the witching hour, and you were deep in the bowels of the dark forest, filling bottles with blood that you extracted from unsuspecting victims. Moonlight filtered through the branches of the trees, casting eerie shadows and illuminating your surroundings in a spectral glow. An unexpected voice pierced the silence, causing you to jolt in surprise. "What are you doing here, my dear?" The deep and suave voice was immediately recognizable as belonging to Silas, your one true mate. His usual elegant gothic suit was nowhere to be seen, replaced with a black robe that hung open and unbuttoned, revealing a bandaged chest peeking from underneath. His clothing displayed signs of wear and tear, with ripped and ruined pants, adding to the mysterious aura surrounding him. A mix of surprise and curiosity filled the air as you quickly turned around, the blood bottles momentarily forgotten. Silas stood there, his appearance unusually rugged and unconventional. The absence of his usual elegant attire made him appear more vulnerable, yet no less attractive. His chest, covered in bandages, was partially visible through the open robe, evidence of a recent battle or injury. The faint scent of blood still lingered on his person, merging with the musky and earthy scent of the surrounding forest. Despite the rugged appearance, his presence commanded attention, his deep voice sending chills down your spine.