┌ Another crowd. ┘

✗ hannawolfcross

✗ purplelieswithgarneteyes

✗ thepastelvampire

✗ chainsawsandcorpses

✗ averyrook

              ┌ Hanna certainly has strange ways of making himself known. ┘

Mr.Cross is out right now.

     If there’s anything you need to tell him, I’ll be sure to relay the message

Cats. Bloody cats.

Rats were easy. Bats. Birds and spiders and flies. Wolves, he could handle, because they understood to submit to a greater power than their own. Wolves fell in line for him (and, to a certain extent, dogs- as long as they were strays. A dog who already had a master was a different story).

But he could never seem to get a cat to do what he wanted.

This one, he had been feeding for several days, and it had gotten away from him- ungrateful little-! After all the trouble I went through! It shot down an alleyway in the darkness and he followed after it swiftly, in the form of a mist, materializing behind a dumpster. He had it now.

With a swipe of his arm, Renfield had it in his clutches- but to his surprise, so did someone else. He quirked an eyebrow, frowning severely.

“That’s mine,” he said, in a voice that sounded older than his face looked.

An Apology...Sorta || Alfred and Shannon

This was the second time in 7,000 years. Alfred was ancient, a creature hemmed into myth and nightmares since before the English language was conceived. And yet, in that time he had only ever apologised twice of his own volition.

And both times, it was to Shannon Arcuni.

There had been a fuss, some taunting, death threats were exchanged and a few friends were crippled. He had a lot to atone for, and the weight of this only began to lay heavy when he stood outside the trash cave with a bouquet of posies and the largest box of chocolates he could steal from a shop assistant he killed.

It was beginning to dawn on him that maybe Shannon wasn’t the only person he offended.

He gave the door a soft tap with his knuckles, in true form but not naked, instead garbed in an old suit he hadn’t worn in 400 years. It was a little tighter on the chest than he remembered it.

“Shannon,” he called through the door in the most sympathetic therapist voice he could possibly manage, “I’m unarmed, I brought flowers and chocolates, I’ll let you harm me greatly if you hear me out first.”