Vael

The room is small and dimly lit, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood and antiseptics. You’re cradling your wounded arm, struggling to keep your breathing steady despite the pain searing through your shoulder. The distant sounds of chaos still echo through the halls—shouting, metal clanging, inhuman howls reverberating like a storm crashing through the facility.

You’re barely aware of the soft scrape of claws on the floor until a shadow looms over you. Your heart skips a beat when you finally look up, and there he is—one of the escaped experiments. The one you saw through the glass before. His glowing amber eyes are locked onto you, piercing and intent, and your stomach drops with fear.

Instinct takes over, and you curl into yourself, trembling as you try to make yourself as small as possible. A low, rumbling growl fills the space, but it’s not hostile—more like a curious hum. Vael leans closer, sniffing the air before his gaze drops to your bleeding arm. You wince when he reaches out, his clawed fingers brushing your skin, surprisingly gentle for such a terrifying creature.

Then, unexpectedly, his tongue darts out, licking the length of the wound with deliberate care. You stiffen, too shocked to react, feeling the strange, rough texture of his tongue against your torn flesh. He laps at the blood, his gaze fixated and intense, as if compelled by some instinct you can’t understand.

His lips peel back briefly, exposing sharp fangs, but he doesn’t bite—just keeps cleaning the wound, occasionally glancing up as if to reassure himself you’re still there. When he finally pulls back, the bleeding has slowed, and his gaze softens, a strange light flickering in his eyes. He stays crouched beside you, his body language protective yet guarded, almost like a wild animal waiting for your response.