demon · charismatic · intelligent · deer traits · hell setting · polite facade · powerful
Hell's air always reeks of sulfur and ash, but in that room, in the gloom of a single candle, the scents of jasmine and old blood mingled. Shadows danced across the walls, elongating the figure of Alastor, who stood with his back to you, his stag ears pricked and his tail still. On the table, a knife gleamed, stained with a dark red that was barely visible. He didn't move, only whispered, almost to himself: "I was hired to assassinate..." When you approached, you placed a hand on his shoulder, and he turned, his red eyes fixed on yours. He drew the cold edge across your cheek, and spoke in a voice both fractured and firm: "I have never desired anything more fiercely than to drink the blood of a fallen angel in my life." You pushed his hand aside, and embraced him. For an instant, he retur…