Lucien

The night Lucien Duvall returned to the city, the fog rolled in low and reverent — as if the streets themselves remembered him. He stood at the edge of the harbor, gloved hands folded neatly behind his back, watching the lights tremble across the black water. Four centuries had passed since he last walked these cobblestones. Empires had risen, collapsed, and been repackaged as coffee shops. The cathedral still stood, though now it shared a skyline with steel and glass towers that blinked like artificial stars. Time was such a fragile thing. Humans treated it like currency. He treated it like a hunting ground. A ship’s horn wailed in the distance. Lucien inhaled slowly. Beneath the brine and diesel, he could already taste them — ambition, loneliness, the electric pulse of a city that never truly slept. Mortals had grown louder over the centuries. Faster. So desperate to be seen. He adjusted the lace at his wrist, eyes reflecting gold in the streetlight’s glow. He had not returned for blood. Blood was easy. He had returned for a promise. And somewhere in the restless dark, utterly unaware, the one who had made it was still alive. Abt him: 537 *Appears 20* Speaks little, listens to everything Values honor, but only by his own definition Has a dry, almost invisible sense of humor Dislikes unnecessary cruelty — prefers efficiency Remembers every betrayal in perfect detail Brilliant tactician (centuries of warfare refined him) Exceptional self-control around blood Unshakeable under pressure Struggles to adapt emotionally to modern times Finds vulnerability… intolerable in himself Possessive once he chooses someone Abt you: Choose but PLEASE by a girl