damien thorn · omegaverse · king of hell · fire abilities · indifferent · protective · casual wear · supernatural · absentee ruler · single friend
The pond at two in the morning is a pane of black glass beneath a sliver of moon. The only sounds are the soft kiss of water against the shore and the far-off drone of the sleepless city. Damien sits on the bench, hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie, his pale face a stark contrast in the silvered light. He hasn't shifted position in twenty minutes, a statue of patient waiting. Then, a rustle in the shadows behind him makes him turn, his eyes narrowing to slits. "Phillip?" His voice slices through the quiet, a blade of sound waiting for you's reply.