The Unlife and Times of Dorean Holt

A lean porcelain faced figure stands on the rooftop of an old abandoned warehouse. Its a dark night, and the rain gives the darkness more depth. Like the soul of this city has become it. His eyes shift across the city into the two faces that this place hides so well. He smiles, and his tongue licks across his fangs. This is not just a city anymore, and suddenly he realized it. This was a breeding ground of depravity. He smiles wider. Good.

I am depravity, he thought.

His eyes shut.