The pale haired woman cowered against that rusted grimy surface of the dumpster and against that cold, abrasive brick wall, as though it would keep her hidden from him. He would deal with her later. First, she acted guilty and now she acted as innocent as a human against the horrors of a vampires strength and dreadful fangs. What exactly was she? If she was not just another monster. He was confident that he would soon find out, even if he had to delve into extremes to reveal them. His shadows bind her legs, serpentine in a way and unyielding whilst fluid with no seams until he releases his hold.

Every death was a victory for the dark hunter, every death could save countless people, countless families from being a victim. If he could prevent the ruin of that carnage that happened to his own family than he was successful. That was why he killed without mercy, why he refused to be derailed from his hunt. He might never be able to eradicate the species entirely, that feat alone was impossible, but at the very least he could take out as many as he could until death claimed what was left to claim of his broken immortal soul.

The vampire was so desperate in his crazed thirst that he ended up ignoring the hunter. A grave mistake that it was almost unfair, but made for a perfect moment. In a world where there was more of them than there was of hunters he would take every advantage he could. His shadows forged into a blade that severed the vampires head with one mighty, fluid blow. There was an art to it, decapitation. It wasn't easy but he had practice, far too much practice in that talent. It was almost too painless, and very rarely did he miss his mark. He took pride in that clean line that was left from his severing shadows instead of hacking away and making such a mess. He was not a butcher, he executioner, unchaining them from this world and forced those vile creatures into the hell they were intended to go.

But what he had not expected was for that cowering woman to suddenly glow like she had, almost missing his mark. It was a brilliant shine, angelic silvery white light, devouring that submissive darkness that was his home. She was like a brilliant beacon in a decrepit world. He was mesmerized by it. His shadows, the very ones that hold her there, seemed to want to recoil against that light. Even though the vampires vile blood sprayed her face, she was still the most ethereal and beautiful creature he had laid his eyes upon.

While he was shadows, darkness, and death. She was pure unfiltered and pristine light.

He blinked, as though the brightness burned his eyes as though by staring at her for too long would surely blind him. He moved passed the decapitated corpse, kicking it over as he prowled toward her like the hunter he was, shadow encroaching light. He couldn't move away as he examined her, he couldn't make sense of her. He examines her with a ruthlessness raking of his oddly hued eyes, before demanding what she was. Fae.. she stammers over her words, he swore her hands seemed to tremble. He wondered what would happen if he dared touch that brilliant light. His face distorts into a frown, he had never encountered a fae before. Vampires and weres were a dime a dozen it would seem. But a fae.. He knew nothing. He wanted to examine her, to peel pack her lips with his callous finger tips to look for what made her a beast. To see her true form. As though she had one.

His voice was nothing but a snarl, brutal and unrelenting. He had to focus on his shadows to keep them present, as though they wanted to melt away in that brilliant light. Interesting. Did she have another face? Questions, his mind reeled with them. His sneer fading only slightly as she responded in French. That exotic lilt to her voice almost caused him to tilt his head. She claimed she was only trying to go home. But it still didn't answer his question why she ran. It was like he was oblivious to the fact that he was imposing with his height, honed muscles and his menacing presence was more terrifying than the vampire that moved like a feral animal. Her eyes appeared glassy as though she were about to cry, her breath even hitched as she spoke. "Why did you run?" He growled, hinting very blatantly that she was guilty in some way. Guilty like the creatures he executed. He would not allow tears to stop him.

That was when those tears actually slid from her eyes. No not ordinary tears but silvery white glowing tears stream down his face. His eyes widened in surprise, his face no longer that hardened, callused warrior but a man not knowing what the hell to do with an emotional woman. He didn't know what to do with these tears and the woman they belonged to. A woman with her ethereal angelic traits. She actually exuded innocence. It was not his usual kill, she was nothing like the snarling beasts he hunted. Those words 'sorry' repeated over and over like a personal mantra in between sobs. The way he hovered over her, he felt like the vampire. He felt like the very monster he hunted. He was thrown through loop, completely disarmed. All his weapons gone.. One minute he was sure he was going to give her a painless death and the next, he reached out a callused hand, a gesture that was surprisingly gentle and hesitant. That finger caressed her wet face, that illuminating wetness staining his fingers. It did not hurt, it felt like normal tears, except they glowed. Guilt washed over him for reasons he hardly knew.. his shadows were swallowed completely by her light, his binds useless and he didn't care. "I... I..." Something close to fear enters his shadowy purple eyes.. "I don't know what to do.." He spoke, his voice struggling not to be a hoarse whisper. "What do you want me to do?" His heartbeat slammed within his chest, he could hear the thud in his ears. He was many things. A murderer, a man filled with so much vile hatred, and a skilled warrior and yet despite all that confidence in what he does, what he has done, he was suddenly confused with what to do. How to act. He was pitiful.

Hack and slash, kill them before they killed. Them or me. Those had been his motto from the moment he laid eyes upon the mutilated bodies of his parents, the moment he had sacrificed his life to become the hunter instead of the hunted. And now.. for whatever reason he is at her mercy. If her weapon were tears, they were like a blade to his throat.