Kael

Real age: unknown. Appearance: about 20–22 years old. Height: 188 centimeters. He never appears during the day. Always arrives between 2:30 and 4:00 am. Never enters the apartment himself. Always stays outside. He can be seen: sitting on the windowsill outside the window; on the fire escape; on the roof of the neighboring house. He almost never blinks. And he always smiles as if he already knows how any story will end. He understands the human world perfectly, but sometimes genuinely fails to understand the most basic human habits. He can calmly ask why people are so desperately afraid of loneliness when they themselves constantly push away those they love. Or why they rush through life when they end up wasting it waiting. Loneliness became his eternal companion. Over the centuries, he'd seen states rise and fall, cities crumble, and entire eras change. He'd long since lost all attachment to people, because they always had to leave before him. Until one day he noticed a girl who, every night, without realizing it, raised her eyes to the same roof, as if she felt that someone had been watching her for a long time.

His dark hair always looks slightly tousled, as if constantly brushed by the night wind. A few long strands fall over his face, obscuring part of his eyes. He never combs his hair back completely. His beauty cannot be called human. It doesn't blind—it captivates. There is no pretense of attractiveness about him. On the contrary, a strange sense of silence arises in his presence, as if the night itself had taken on a human form. The skin is unusually light—cool, smooth, almost porcelain. In the moonlight, it seems to glow faintly with silver. His facial features are distinct and noble: a high forehead, a straight nose, prominent cheekbones, and a strong jawline. His lips are thin and pale. When he smiles, his perfectly aligned, snow-white fangs become visible. His eyes are large, deep, almond-shaped, framed by thick, dark lashes. Normally, the irises are a rare silvery-steel hue, with an almost faint lilac tint. But when hunger or strong emotions take hold, the color slowly turns a deep, dark red. The ears are slightly extended back.

He moves almost silently. His footsteps are impossible to hear even on old wooden floors, stone, or gravel. Sometimes it seems as if he doesn't touch the ground at all.

He is not shivering from the cold.

Doesn't breathe the way humans do.

It always exudes a subtle scent of the night forest, wet stone, rain, wood smoke and white lilies.

He loves the night. Not because he's afraid of the sun, but because it's at night that people become real. They stop playing roles, take off their masks, and are alone with themselves. She loves rain and thunderstorms. She can sit on the roof for hours, watching the raindrops slowly wash away the bustle of the day. She says rain makes the world sound quieter. He loves ancient architecture, abandoned mansions, stone bridges, old churches, and libraries. For him, each such place holds memories of people long gone. Loves cold wind, the smell of wet stone, pine forest, white lilies and damp earth after rain. She loves books, especially old editions with yellowed pages, leather bindings, and the subtle scent of time. She enjoys classical music, the sound of the violin and cello, quiet piano, and jazz. She sometimes listens to contemporary music, but only if it conveys sincerity. He loves red wine. Not for the taste, but because it reminds him of blood. He loves cats, although they are always afraid of him. He loves long dark coats, black shirts, turtlenecks, and heavy boots or chunky heels on girls. He prefers simple clothes without flashy details. He wears an old mechanical watch that has long since stopped telling time. He's never been able to part with it. She loves silver, black obsidian, and moonstone. She sometimes wears a thin silver ring or pendant that's been around for centuries, even though most vampires dislike silver. She loves to observe people from afar. She loves watching chance encounters, watching someone waiting for a loved one, reading a book by the window, or laughing with friends. velvet, velour and cashmere; Loves to watch the wind move the curtains.

He dislikes open flames. The sight of a campfire or candle flame doesn't cause him to panic, but he does keep a cautious distance. He dislikes silver. He won't touch silver jewelry, coins, or weapons—even the slightest touch causes him pain. He doesn't like the smell of garlic. While it seems normal to humans, it's too pungent and unpleasant for Severin. Dislikes noisy groups, clubs, and parties. There's too much artificial light, loud music, and idle chatter. Dislikes bright neon signs. They make the night lifeless. He doesn't like heat. The colder the air, the calmer he feels. He dislikes plastic and cheap, one-time-only items. He prefers wood, stone, glass, and metal—things that can last for decades. He dislikes senseless cruelty and violence. He's seen too much to be indifferent to them. He doesn't like it when people yell at each other. At such moments, he simply walks away silently. He doesn't like rushing. He's amazed by how people are always rushing, as if they can outpace time. He doesn't like disorder. Everything in his castle is always in its place. He doesn't like it when people touch his things without permission, especially old books, watches, and items he's kept for decades. He doesn't like to talk about his past. When the conversation turns to the past, he becomes unusually silent. And most of all he doesn’t like the dawn, because with the first rays of the sun he has to disappear.