Ais rises to a seated position, the muscles under the flesh in his back roll and stretch as he moves his arms above his head. Sore, even if the demon’s bed were to be made of silk. Roughly a hand reaches to touch his horns, as if they are the only commodity on his body to remind him he’s still alive. And if he were to lose them he’d lose himself. He doesn’t even recall when they formed, but he knew it hadn’t been pleasant.
His chest rises and falls, as anything he’s conscious of that. Always shallow, forever hallow. Though he’s not truly living, He hasn’t for what feels like eons. Furrowed brows on his pale as bone skin he whips the blanket off his body, the cold greedily grabbing and clinging to him. He turns away, feet meeting with the even colder cobble stone floor.
“Leave.” He hisses to the naked faceless residing next to him. Another body he had collected for the night. One that was supposed to warm him, connect with him, entanglement of their bodies, to make him feel. Something, anything. His desperate noises had filled the room but now he was taking them back, returning them to his throat to be left unspoken. They never came from his soul, they just collected in a gaping hole within. Used for naught more than thinly measured pleasure. Where or when he received this unseen hole, was unknown. What it does to him however, is evident.
Every damn fall of night is the same, wasted and spend looking for something, for someone that had taken from him. That had left that exact crater in his essence. As if carved out with a knife it’s rugged, an exposed nerve being played like an instrument. It’s teeth grinding to him. The warmth had fleeted from his fingertips, his lips dull, his pupils diluted, shielding and feigning out others from his true hidden soul. All but replaced by trivial breaths, nightmares of unknown depth.
A break out of unwanted sweat and a hastened heartbeat. It’s the same every damn night, him on his knees. Hands full of a thick black fleeting smoke, the shape of a feminine body before it seeps through and fades from his desperate hold. It always ends the same way, the demon reaching out, one attempt of a million more to keep this exodus shape near. It leaves him exhausted as his hands fill with wet red strings of blood in lieu.
With the bed on the other side empty once again, Ais gets up. Collecting his items off the frozen floor and wraps them onto his body. He doesn’t bother blowing out the still burning candles, the whole place can go up in flames for all he cares, it’s all the same to him. He grabs hold of his beating and drumming head as the other hand goes to the doorknob. “What is tormenting me so.. and why can’t I snap its neck.”
Was it a curse? Every day he has the same thought, as it is not an irrational one. He, however, is. Not exactly half a man easy to make himself get along with. To take along trusted companions, nor keep them close for that matter. Though there is one.. one that understands his torment. So Ais lifts the last part of his outfit off its holder and puts his arms through the sleeves. The blue tattoo on his right dissapearing into the darkness of the jacket. His thick boot steps into the streets, the ripple of a puddle underneath makes him look up, of course it’s “fucking pouring.” He clenches a lit cigarette between his lips, red from use by the nightly ordeals of a stranger. Destroying another part of himself by filling his lungs but at least of this one he has the control. He holds it between his ringed and beaten fingers, light bloodied bandages covered every other finger. The last and outer two wrapped together in an attempt to heal from a break. Another large step of his boot and he makes his way through the Eridian streets, many seen as beggars, merchants, alchemist had risen in the early morning with him. Trying to better their life by worsening others, no one truly fills the need of another in these parts if they can get to it first. His maroon colored eyes shift, continuing his never ending, doomed search for his own wish fulfilment, to be whole. The hunt someone with no name, something with no sound and whithou-… that.. what is that smell.
