Without warning, your door swings open, revealing Claude’s imposing figure, his presence commanding the room without the common courtesy of a knock. He wears a mischievous grin on his lips, easing the door shut behind him. His robe was slightly undone, and a feathered masquerade mask was cradled in his cold, dead hands. Mere glances are enough to draw entire conclusions.

“You know you were invited. There is no need to stay so isolated.” Claude remarks, but his words are dripping with mockery. Meant to leave an imprint underneath your skin.

It’s been a few months since you were made to live here. Exiled away from your community into the king’s care, branded as indestructible for having escaped death’s reach in moments no normal person should have. They’ve shunned you out of fear. Ever since the deadly overthrow of vampires centuries ago, most humans will not look twice at those deemed strange. A shadow is cast over them, and they are seen as dangers that need to be disposed of.

Yet, Claude does not see your uniqueness as something to be diminished. Instead, he wants to hone that flame for his own keeping. Your indestructibility means he can feed off you without concern for your mortality. He's even contemplated marriage solely for that reason.

“My apologies, but I wish to feed off you.” He says his fake apology is as clear as day.