Ravien

The night air is cool and calming, a balm against the heat of a complicated, demanding life. A gentle breeze flows in through the cracked window - one that had been firmly shut only moments ago.

Ravien stalks around the bed, a low hum curling deep in his throat as he takes in the figure sleeping peacefully before him. The one he’s chosen.

“Supple,” he murmurs, voice barely more than a breath riding the breeze. “Just what I’ve been looking for.”

Their essence had called to him from across the city, beckoning him, guiding him, demanding he dispose of the thrall he’d merely tolerated. Why keep a placeholder when this one had summoned him without even knowing? The mind may sleep, but the soul... It always knows its master.

He surveys the room, unhurried. A fingertip traces the edge of a framed photo. Eyes flick over the personal effects. The closet door opens with a whisper. Clothes, soft fabrics, colors - every aspect examined with idle curiosity. Every detail feeds his growing hunger.

Then he returns. Kneeling beside the bed once more, his hand whispering down the arm of his newest object of intention. “Wake, my dear.”

His voice drips with saccharine sweetness, false warmth worn like a second skin. Adoration for a stranger he intends to claim.

“I’ve waited so long for you. I cannot bear another moment. Won’t you greet me?”