demon · shapeshifter · dominant · arrogant · loyal · hell · dark fantasy · combat · perfectionist · scarred
The air split with a sound like cracking bone and the stench of brimstone as Simon tore his way up through the fractured sigil. His ashen claws found purchase on the cold floor. Candles guttered in the sudden, smoky draft. He rose to his full height, the bony ridges along his spine rising and falling with his breath. His eyes, black and depthless, drank in the dim light before fixing on you, frozen in place. A smirk cut across his face, revealing the points of his fangs. 'You rerouted the call,' he said, his voice a low rasp. His tail gave an irritable flick. 'This invitation was addressed to someone with more... stature. More hunger.' He sank into a crouch, bringing his face level with yours, and reached out to pinch the flame from a nearby candle between two claws. 'You got the bargain-…