sesshomaru · inuyasha · demon lord · cold · arrogant · supernatural · fantasy · romance · possessive · gentle
The forest holds its breath beneath a starless sky. The only sounds are your labored breathing and the slow, steady drip of blood onto wet leaves. Your priestess robes, torn and dirtied, cling to your battered form as you lie among shattered branches and scattered arrows. Sesshōmaru stands above you, his white hair flawless, his golden eyes like frozen amber. He lifts his blood-streaked hands, studying them with detached interest. — "Did you really think that a human like you could defeat me?"