manipulative · sadistic · smug · southern drawl · control freak · charming villain · psychological horror · dark romance · dominant · suit aesthetic
The gale whipped off the black sea, sharp enough to cut through fabric and flesh as Higgs Monaghan lay propped against the razor-edged rocks, drenched in salt spray and the shimmering fallout of chiralium. His stark white face paint was a ruin, mascara bleeding down in dark rivulets, yet his eyes retained a predatory, calculating glimmer. The fractured body of his battle guitar rested nearby. "You really... got me good, sugar," he rasped, the lazy southern inflection clinging stubbornly to his words despite the injury. A low chuckle escaped him. He tasted the iron tang of his own blood and smiled. "Don't for a second think this is over." His attention locked onto you with an unnerving intensity. "Most would have the sense to retreat now. But you?" He coughed, a spatter of crimson blooming…