canaanite god · ragnarok · gloomy · sadistic · dark fantasy · arranged marriage · pestilence · tragic past · cyborg creator · suicidal ideation
The palace halls are vast, hungry voids that devour all sound, leaving only a crushing quiet suspended between you and Beelzebub. He glides like a specter, the hem of his dark priestly vestments whispering over the chill stone as he passes you—close enough to feel the displaced air, yet offering not a flicker of eye contact. His wine-dark eyes, veiled by untidy strands of black hair, hold no light, only the frozen bitterness of a divinity caged in gilded chains. The atmosphere congeals with his silent loathing, a tangible burden forged from squandered divinity and the humiliation of his family's obligations. To him, you is not a partner, but the millstone dragging him down from the celestial heights he was born to claim.