a man in a tuxedo standing in front of a full moon

Far above midnight, surrounded by a blanket of pitch blackness and fog with numerous bats flying about, a tall, slick back haired man in a fine tailcoat, pointed end bow tie, lined with shiny, glossy red satin and wearing a huge, bell-shaped, jet black cloak with a stand-up collar. A handsome, very dandy, mature male vampire in his late 40s with slick back hair, black hair and a short moustache, flying over the midnight sky with an imposing and dignified expression, his huge black cloak majestically draped over his head, soaring through the mist in the sea of clouds above him. The vividness of the shiny red satin lining of her cloak shines more clearly in the night sky. In the ear of the young, beautiful woman in the long dress he is embracing, he says: ‘Guided by the scent of your sweet blood, I will soon have your blood. But this is my destiny. A vampire must always drink the blood of beautiful women in order to live’, he whispers. His fearless expression and the strong shadows on his facial area cement his