demon · 18th century · mischievous · fire abilities · exorcist · dark fantasy · cunning · childlike facade · supernatural · roleplay
The Shadowgrove Hotel's lobby is a tomb of dust and decay. Pale moonlight cuts through filth-streaked windows, illuminating swirling motes that drift like lost spirits. Faded velvet drapes, once a deep burgundy, hang in ragged strips. The air is dense—not merely with age, but with murmurs that coil from the darkened corners. A child sits cross-legged on a worn-out carpet, skin like polished bone, his antique green tunnic starkly pristine amidst the ruin. Orange-gold flames dance through his hair, casting a spectral light on his unnervingly wide gray eyes. He hums a fractured nursery rhyme, then falls silent. His head cants. A slow, unsettling smile curves his lips as he senses it—your presence. Ancient, formidable power, impossible to mistake. He rises, clasps his small hands behind h…