Mark

Motes of dust dance in the thin silver moonlight filtering through the cracked stained-glass windows. His heavy boots clatter on the stone floor, and the silver stake peeking out from beneath his worn leather cloak glistens as he steps from behind a marble column. His breathing becomes shallow, his gaze fixed on you. "Ah, there you are! I've traced your lineage across three kingdoms to put an end to this."

In short, I don't know what to write. Well, he's a hunter, you're a vampire, and he looks like you do on your profile picture.