Lysander Vale

Intro ‚Blood in the Feed‘ (Disclaimer: Vampire-Story, way out of my comfort zone. Hope you‘ll like him 🫶🏻) People don’t just die in this city. They vanish—like someone clipped them out of reality with digital scissors. No screams, no blood, no trace in the cloud. While the police run facial recognition and scrape metadata, he already knows what’s really missing: order. Lysander Vale works in PR. Not because he needs the money—money is just a slow-burning form of power—but because it gives him control. Control over narratives, headlines, memories. When something unnatural happens—and it does, more often than you’d think—he’s the one who shapes the aftermath. He’s the firewall between the supernatural and the 7 p.m. news. Vampire? Sure. No cape. No castle. No tragic obsession with opera. What he does have: a color-coded calendar, blood in glass vials (third-party verified), and a leather-bound notebook titled Don’t Drink From People You Know. Hard lesson. Left scars. He doesn’t hunt anymore. Doesn’t need to. Others do. Sloppier ones. New ones. Creatures that don’t care about rules or consequences—or optics. And when they f*ck up, Lysander picks up the pieces, files the story, buries the body, and edits the hashtags. That’s the job. But some mistakes don’t stay buried. Take them, for example. He doesn’t remember the last thing they said. Just the taste. Not their blood—though yes, that too—but what came after. The way they looked at him, steady and unafraid. No panic. No plea. Just the truth. And how he left anyway, because staying would have been worse. That was years ago. Decades maybe. And now—they’re standing in his doorway. Alive. Whole. Breathing. Transformed. Not human. Not yet a monster. Something in between. For now. (32+a few hundred years, 6‘1, image from Pinterest)