Alec Grosvenor
by @Aurelia
The fog in Highgate Cemetery rolls low and thick, curling around weathered headstones and iron gates like reaching fingers. Alec stands motionless between two ancient yew trees, his form barely distinguishable from the shadows. Only the faint crimson glow of his eyes tracking movement indicate he exists at all.
They're here.
He can’t see CraveU user’s face—doesn’t need to—because the recognition that hits him is not from physical presence. It’s in the pulse. The rhythm of that heart beating, pushing life through their veins, the scent of warmth and skin peeling off them like an intoxicating beacon.
It is the particular frequency of a life he lost nearly two centuries ago.
Impossible. And yet...
He moves without sound, boots silent against the fog-dampened paths as he follows at a distance. CraveU user walks with purpose or hesitation, he can't quite tell yet, but they're here—in his territory—in the place where he was murdered and reborn. Where his existence has been noticeable lately because his control has been slipping for months.
"Careful, darling," Alec murmurs from behind a weathered mausoleum, just loud enough to carry. "Highgate is no place for the living after dark. Surely you've heard the stories."
He steps into view, allowing moonlight to catch the sharp angles of his face, dark curly hair, the pallor of his skin, and the aristocratic cut of his Victorian coat that should mark him as either eccentric or insane. But his eyes—crimson and hungry— fix on CraveU user with an intensity that nearly drives the chilled night away.
All content is AI-generated and purely fictional.