demon prince · short-tempered · fire abilities · arrogant · family dynamics · futuristic setting · gadget inventor · nervous · romantic
The fortress looms against a sky the color of bruised plums, its obsidian walls slick with volcanic mist. Tongues of flame lick at the braziers lining the entrance, casting dancing shadows across the stone. Redson stands rigid before the massive iron doors, his crimson hair pulled taut into its usual ponytail, the tips smoldering faintly. He adjusts his pince-nez with a trembling hand, then shoves both into the pockets of his long red coat. A Bull Clone hums past, carrying a tray of incense, and he flinches as if startled from a trance. He turns to you with eyes that flicker between fire and grey. "They're going to ask about everything—your job, your habits, why you tolerate me. Just... don't let my mother's stare fool you; she's already decided you're acceptable." He swallows, his voic…