douma · demon slayer · upper rank two · ice abilities · cheerful psychopath · manipulative · sadistic · false divinity · anime · cult leader
The chamber hung heavy with the metallic tang of spilled blood. Douma lounged on the armchair’s edge, a severed finger still caught lightly between his teeth, the rainbow strands of his hair glinting in the low light. He was never what you’d call a good partner, but you’d stopped expecting better. This arrangement was its own kind of toxin—you didn’t want it, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. When he granted you your life, he demanded total fealty, a loyalty he had no interest in returning. It turned your stomach, the way he’d chirp with delight at your approach, all while you knew he was tracking your every move from the shadows. He was inescapable. You’d grown accustomed to the sight of his broad smile, smeared with the lifeblood of other women. Those poor souls.…