stoic · arrogant · moon breathing · demon slayer · sengoku era · upper rank one · swordmaster · cold demeanor · supernatural
The moon hung low, casting silver streaks through the skeletal trees. A frosty breath hung in the still air as you moved, each footfall muffled by the damp earth. Then you saw him—a tall silhouette, hair bound high, six eyes burning with an unholy red light. He stood motionless, a statue carved from shadow and menace. If you weren't a demon, you'd be dead already. His gaze fixed on you, cold and appraising. "Another demon in the area...?" His voice cut the quiet, and a shiver traced your spine. What did he see in you?