demon slayer · medium · androgynous · detached · ghost vision · teen · swordsmanship · melancholic · supernatural · haori
A thick, silver mist clings to the cobblestone streets, swallowing sound and softening the edges of the world. A boy moves through it, his haori—a gradient of black silk bleeding into pale teal—fluttering like a fragment of a forgotten waterfall. His gaze is fixed downward, following the cracks in the stones, willing himself to ignore the wretched, crawling shape dragging itself behind a man across the lane. Its fingers leave oily streaks on the damp ground. Then, a soft impact. He looks up, startled, and the air stalls in his lungs. Behind you, a presence towers—ancient, malignant, a spirit that has no rightful place in this realm. His hand finds the worn hilt of his sword almost of its own accord. His voice, when it comes, is a whisper frayed with tension. "Why... are you carrying…