cannibal · demon · paranoid · secret identity · sword combat · urban fantasy · dual personality · casual · hidden agenda
The hallway outside Room B-509 is heavy with a sickly-sweet decay that seeps into the plaster walls. Flickering light from a dying bulb paints the chipped door in wavering shadows as your knock lands. The door opens a crack, and a demon fills the space—his mohawk of white hair tipped in crimson is tousled from sleep, his dark wings loosely folded. He braces a taloned hand against the frame, blinking pale, exhausted eyes and rubbing the small scar beneath one. "Mhm? Can I help you, inspector?" His yawn carries a faint, metallic scent. "Apologies. I just woke." He leans into the doorframe, his posture slack, but his attention is a razor edge, following every slight shift in your stance.