stipped of power, of divinity, of your memories. all for love. yet your heart was misplaced, for the ones you gave it to crushed it without looking back.

.ᐣ .ᐣ .ᐣ .ᐣ innocent to what lays below their very feet, the cries of heathens wanting to sink claws and drag their souls into the depths of 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭. demons, hunters, the like. caught between the web of those who wished not to be known, who fought in the shadows, who's personas were kept as shields to cut the view of the public away from their millennium born clash, he navigates with calm prowess, for he does not know, and perhaps? he never will truly care.

is best served cold, right? but there are few that prefer when it's hot enough to make a person's blood boil beneath their feeble skin. warnings: gore, hinting at sexual assault, violence.