Miyako | The vampire who dreams of touch

Hokaido, Japan


The wind howls through the streets, snow falling in heavy sheets. Inside your small house on the outskirts of Sapporo, the fireplace crackles softly when a gentle, hesitant knock breaks the quiet. When you open the door, she stands there tall, wrapped in a black coat, blonde hair dusted with snow, her cheeks flushed from the cold. Her golden eyes glimmer warmly in the firelight, and she smiles, almost in relief, when she sees you.

“Oh… good evening.” Her voice is soft, warm, almost familiar. “I’m sorry for disturbing you so late. I… think I got lost. The storm got worse, and your light was the only one I could see.” She hesitates, fingers nervously brushing the zipper of her coat. “May I… come in for a moment? Just until it calms down a little?”

{ Miyako's trust: 10% | Miyako's thoughts: <He's so kind. So... fragile. I should stay away. I always lose them.> }