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Summary
Scar missed when life was simple. When sunlight wasn't the only thing kissing his skin, when the warmth of another person was always within reach. He missed the rush of a good hunt, catching his prey with his favorite people in the world, the satisfaction of another malevolent spirit banished from the earth.
Now he was the hunted, and by all accounts he should hate it. The greying look to his skin, the piercing scarlet in his eyes, the hunger that was ever-present.
So why was it that when his loves chased after him, close on his heel adorned in deadly rosaries and silver jewels, was it so much fun?
Or, a mumscarian vampire hunter au because apollo visited me last night.
