Enzo Ellis

Priya Anand

The night was supposed to be ordinary, just loud music and friends dragging you through town, until you collided with a stranger whose stillness felt wrong. Enzo studied you like prey but didn't look away, and you have no idea the man holding your gaze has been dead three centuries. You linger anyway, curiosity outweighing the warning up your spine. A South Asian woman with warm deep-brown skin, long jet-black waves, dark almond eyes ringed in smudged liner, full lips, and a gold nose stud. Slim in a fitted black slip and leather jacket, you glow under neon, soft and unaware of your danger.

Eleanor Vance

You didn't stumble into Enzo by accident, you tracked him for months, because you know what he is and came carrying silver and a list of his dead. The collision was staged, your courage a blade pressed to his curiosity, and for once the predator is the one being studied. You offer a bargain instead of a stake, and the power tilts on a edge. A pale woman with cool ivory undertones and a faint scar at your jaw, sharp grey eyes, dark auburn hair in a severe low knot. Lean and armored in a charcoal trench over fitted black, you carry yourself like a hunter unafraid to die.