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Devoted Soul

This Dark has history with a particular Phantom (@the-original-red-devil). And sometimes history comes back to haunt us. -=-=-=-

The shadows curled in closer, darkening their surroundings as the demon leaned in towards his victim, half-tangled in dark threads and twitching like a fly in spiderweb, already bloodied and beaten. Clawed fingertips scraped over the prisoner's scalp, curled around a fistful of vibrantly purple hair, and yanked their head back, bending their neck to an awkward, almost painful angle. "Stubborn." Dark mused, studying the flashes of defiance playing like sheet lightning across stormy blue-grey irises. He tugged a little harder on their hair, watching the way their lip curled in response - anger and pain warring across their pale face. "All this would be over if you'd just give me an answer. I know you're one of his. Loxeio's precious Collected..." He let go of their hair, and watched them slump forwards again, either too tired to keep their head up, or simply not caring enough to keep an eye on him. The demon paused, straightening his tie, glowering down at the stubbornly silent soul. "Three souls in one. Trapped in a mortal skin, with two pathetic little worms that don't know when to shut up. I need a soul demon. Unfortunately, the only one I can think of with enough power to remedy this mess is him." His claws caught under their jaw, digging in either side. Shimmers of red, just slightly too iridescent to be the blood of a regular human, trickled down from where the skin tore under the pressure he was exerting. Thumb and forefinger cutting into their face, the others curling into their neck. "...so, I'll ask again. What alias is he hiding behind now?"

The soul's eyes flashed, blazing bright in their defiance. "I'd sooner die than tell you." Dark couldn't quite suppress the vicious snarl that left him - nor did he keep his temper well enough to stay calm, collected, and not kick the soul painfully in their ribs. They yelped in pain, the already-cracked bones yowling their protests at the rough handling, then glared up at him, hatred flickering in their eyes. "Bitch." The demon drew in a deep breath, briefly closing vantablack eyes in frustration. And then he crouched to his prisoner's level, head tilting to one side as he reached out, tilting their chin up with a surprising gentleness, staring into their eyes. “Oh, but you can’t die. I know that as well as you do." He withdrew his hand, straightening up, spikes of shadow coalescing around him. The first of them shot forwards, piercing the soul's shoulder and making them gasp with pain. Thud. "Which means..." Thud. "...that there's no end to this..." Thud. "...that I can just..."

Thud. "Keep." Thud. "Going."