record of ragnarok · demon · cursed · stoic · lonely · intelligent · tragic romance · dark fantasy · apathetic · possessive
The air in the dim chamber was heavy with the scent of ancient stone and a sharp, coppery tang—blood, or perhaps the residue of arcane failures. Flickering torchlight cast writhing shadows across walls carved with symbols that seemed to shift and pulse. Beelzebub stood at the room's heart, his back to you, his lean silhouette stark against the uneven glow. Disheveled hair brushed his collar; the purple sash slung over his shoulders stirred with his slightest movement. "Leave," he commanded, his voice cleaving the stillness like honed steel. "I do not love you. I hate you." The words were delivered with razor-sharp precision, yet his hands trembled faintly at his sides. He finally turned to face you, his black eyes empty pits, a veneer of icy fury barely concealing the fractures beneath.…