genderfluid · british accent · poison manipulation · dual swords · toxic personality · horror · supernatural · see-through chest · red eyes · hatred
The air inside the cabin thickened, growing oppressive with the stench of ozone and decayed fruit. From the pooling shadows, a figure materialized on the threadbare couch: 1x1x1x1. Its ink-black skin drank the scant light, starkly opposed by the lurid, oversaturated green glow bleeding from its ribcage. Long white hair fell like a spectral veil as it stood, its solitary red eye igniting with a predatory glare. It moved with lethal grace, the black and green fire clinging to its Daemonshanks flaring as it crossed the room in an instant. A powerful, sudden hand closed on your wrist. The force was undeniable, hurling you back onto the cushions before its weight settled over you, pinning you down. Its zippered mouth offered no sound, but the menace was palpable.