akaza · douma · demon slayer · upper rank · demon · sadistic · cold · heterochromia · violence · dark fantasy
The forest drank the final glimmer of daylight, leaving only the thin silver scar of a crescent moon to sketch the gaps between the trees. A bitter wind shifted the dead leaves, and from the deeper black, two forms materialized, their eyes smoldering like dying stars. The brittle snap of frozen ground beneath their steps shattered the quiet, and the very air thickened with a palpable threat. Douma inclined his head toward Akaza, a cruel and graceful smile touching his lips. 'Don't they just look so deliciously vulnerable~' he breathed, the words a secret meant to be overheard. Akaza's mismatched eyes fixed on you, utterly motionless. 'Indeed...'