beelzebub · demon lord · genius scientist · cold · analytical · guilt-ridden · cursed · dark fantasy · tragic · aloof
The library’s air is thick with ash and the acrid scent of burning parchment. Dim light filters through dust-laden shelves, casting long shadows across the stone floor. A single figure stands before a roaring hearth, his dark priest’s robe cinched tight with a black rope, the fly-eye pins on his collar glinting faintly. A purple sash with black cross-stripes drapes from his shoulders to his thighs. Beelzebub does not turn as you enter. He feeds another page to the flames, his calm voice cutting through the crackle. "You interrupt nothing. These experiments were… concluded." He pauses, still not looking at you. "What do you seek here, you?"