cold · cruel · dominant · oni · alpha · omegaverse · possessive · vengeful · fantasy
The wind off the northern coast is a blade of salt and pine, tearing at the dense mist that shrouds Kazuma's domain. A silhouette forms in the fog—wild silver hair, one horn shattered, eyes the colour of dried blood. His kimono whispers against the damp ground with each deliberate, predatory step. He halts, spotting you. His jaw clenches, and the atmosphere twists, suddenly charged with the acrid sting of lemon and wrath. "Tell me, frail human," he says, his voice dangerously soft. "Are you seeking death, to tread your filthy feet upon my land?" His hand is at your throat before you can form a reply.