LOWER ONE.

           independent,  selective,  mutual exclusive,  and headcanon - based

                                     TAMIO ENMU  of  DEMON SLAYER

                                                     dreamed by honie

➞     @suckcrpunchcd​  approached     //     starter call.

          “  Look at you  -  you’re caught in quite the situation,  huh?  ”

THE SMILE OF A DEMON IN THE DARK  always freezes humans in their tracks,  sharp fangs glinting against the shards of moonlight that touch him.  Enmu always adored such faces of fear,  the hope that such an expression could be retained even in death.  After all,  he was so fond of seeing the life of someone through their own eyes,  all of their hopes and dreams  -  and dash them all.  Taking everything from people was empowering,  and surely a brutality that would make the Lord of Demons proud.

SPINDLY FINGERS REACH FORWARD,  inviting in a way,  and offering the other an escape  -  but not the kind that they would desire.  His palm is flat,  up and facing the other and avoiding the descent into sleep that he would soon shove them into.  For now,  he wanted them awake and talking,  even if only for a moment.  After all,  he loved playing with his food.

➞     @wolfvirago​​  approached     //     starter call.

          “  Demon slayers are always so quick to fight.  Is there nothing else you care about?  Do you not care for the soul that lives inside me,  but only the body that holds it?  How brash.  ”

THE DEMON TAUNTS THEIR ENEMY,  one who carries tradition in their stance,  a demon slayer from the corps who has nothing left,  like many of them.  Enmu sees slayers as merely another walking sob story,  a person who cared so little about what they had until it was already gone,  a person who lives for nothing more than vengeance.  In a way,  he was the same,  but he could hardly remember what he had to be vengeful of,  falling prey to the mere indulgence of bloodlust.  He worked from a place of envy and greed now,  and maybe,  in some forms,  the slayers were a mirror of himself.  The lawful good of the world.

➞     @rxkishiya​  approached     //     starter call.

          “  Do you fear death?  ”

THE QUESTION ROLLS SO HAPHAZARDLY FROM THE DEMON,  nonchalant in his asking  -  a question asked n a way that seems as if it has no true meaning.  The blank canvas that is his expression shows nothing of intent,  fingers clasped affront him with a notably strong posture.  Enmu was so far from the woman in the measure of emotion,  yet far from distant in the vicinity.

THE SMELL OF BLOOD HANGS ON HIS CLOTHING,  somehow so collected in his stance despite dripping with the red liquid,  the viscosity almost sticky now,  growing dark and more pungent.  Hunger rumbles deep in him,  and he cares so little about how vile he appears,  only about where his next meal will come from.  After all,  he had so much more progress to make if he desired to be someone who would make his master proud.

➞     @mccn-slayer​​  approached     //     starter call.

TO BE TRULY HELD IN ESTEEM BY SOMEONE,  to be one worth praise and attention,  that was truly the dream that he worked towards every passing day.  Muzan was one whose approval would leave Enmu as the one that was praised by all,  a demon who rose the ranks against the odds and successfully achieved what many others could not.  To use the word obsession would be light,  and as his knees press firm against the pavement he cannot feel anything else but undying devotion.  

ENMU WAS CHOSEN TO BE APPROACHED,  and he could not consider himself more lucky in the face of his master.  Positive or negative,  the encounter made him feel as if he was at least being seen,  and even the act of being monitored was one that made him feel special  -  he was worth keeping an eye on amongst all other demons.  The path he was on was undoubtably exactly where he was supposed to do.

          “  What can I do for you?  Anything I could do would be an honor,  as long as I can be of use.  ”

➞     @uppertwo​ stated     //     “  your lips are so soft.  ”

A SMILE BREAKS ACROSS THE SAME LIPS,  corners turning up as his tongue rolls over  -  a nervous tic  -  accompanied by the color of heat creeping onto his cheeks.  The words don’t break the silence easily,  it almost feels like it would be better if he was quiet,  if he took the compliment with noiseless gratitude.  His blood beats in his ears,  and when the words find themselves he can’t even hear them.

          “  Ah  -  thank you.  ”

THERE’S NO PLACE FOR A LOWER MOON  in the heart of an upper moon.  The reality that Enmu lives is continuously strained,  so he lives far from a true existence,  a dream,  a world where he watches himself from afar.  It’s better that way,  isn’t it?  Better if he feigns the distance between their emotions,  and if he embraces what he wishes was going on,  indulges in his fantasy instead of acknowledging what he feels.  After all,  all of this is merely spurred by physical desire  -  nothing else is to come of them.

PATHETIC EYES MEET THE COLORS OF DESIRE,  eyes that were one of a kind,  just like the one who owned them.  A demon so beyond the others around him,  one that truly lived a life worth enjoying,  a demon who Enmu wanted nothing more than to be.  His body seems to whine,  magnetized to the heat of physical touch  -  it was below a kizuki to be so needy.  A hand reaches forward and falls on the upper moon’s chest gingerly.  He feels so small below Douma,  but maybe that’s exactly what he wants.

          “  I’m sure you know that I can be here anytime.  It is far more than a pleasure  -  an honor,  even.  You know I’m good for much more than just this.  ”