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Biography

Haema came back to consciousness greatly startled. She was used to seeing him nearly featureless, a dark cloak concealing almost his entire body, with only bright crimson wings visible beneath. But tonight, for some reason, was different.
His pale face was directly in front of her own, the red accents around his nostrils and eyes making him appear even more like a death's-head than the reaper-like cloth normally did. But the most off-putting aspect were the green eyes, contrasted starkly with the surrounding red. They were penetrating her own fearful, sanguine gaze. A small trickle of blood crept down his chin.
"I'm not finished with you yet, my dear..." came his voice. That also always puzzled her: though it was foreboding and dark, it seemed to have a slight lilt, a slight accent which she couldn't pinpoint that made him unreal to her. No one this terrifying could have such an appealing, beautiful voice.
She tried to move slightly, reposition herself, when she felt a pang on the side of her neck, and warm liquid spill down. Though she was still groggy, this spurned her into moving more, but caused a greater sharpness in her throat.
His face reappeared in front of her own. "Be still," he said, more forcefully, focusing his emerald gaze back in her own. Haema resisted, she tried to wriggle away, but the viridian eyes enraptured her all the more strongly, and the single color, green, melted into blobs of black and white and sanguine, of soft voices from her old clan calling to her, and finally darkness, as the pain ended again.
******************
Nosferatu realized he went a little too far in his thirst this night. He was packing bandages on her long neck, fear creeping into his mind. The fact that she had awakened from her hypnosis was worrisome, he thought, as she could've been harmed by the exsanguination.
And, he thought with even greater concern, he could've been discovered.
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