" oh my ... ! those eyes !! "
[ they're quick to stand to their feet, tip toes pressed against the floor as they try to reach his height. staring with curious wonder as they gaze with wide eyes. ]
" how lovely ! i've never seen anything like them before ... "
[ the hashira smiles, hands cupping his face as to get a better look at him. they don't even seem to note the apparent kanji etched into his iridescent orbs. or just how cold his face felt against the fingertips of her skin. once again she naïvely found herself lost in the visage of another art piece. ]
(✿); finally got the courage to send something in (´;ω;`) of course, not forced ! so if you don't want to respond you don't have to ! and if you don't, that's okay !! i just wanna say you have a lovely blog !! <3
He could not pinpoint a reason as to why the Demon Slayer Corps insists on treating him as of late. The others often stumble upon the most tedious pillars to have ever been born, but he — out of sheer luck — keeps receiving the beautiful ones, the most delectable.
❝ Itadakimasu... ❞ Murmured under his breath, icy tongue wetting his lips upon the sight. Dōma has made a habit of waiting for them to lunge first; deciphering their breathing style from a distance before he reciprocates. It's not as if he is in any hurry after all. The night is still young, and a sole pillar stands no chance against a century's worth of nutritious meals. Still, as well fed as he is, there's a figment of drool pooling at the corner of his lips as they make to approach.
Caught off guard, when plush fingertips brush over alabaster skin; ice-cold to the touch. Instinctively, breath withheld shielded them from an immediate death — an unfortunate side effect of mingling with his followers for so long, knowing he'd have to protect them from his own hoarfrost at times. And it's still held, as she draws even closer, lips parting lightly to reveal two sets of sharp fangs beneath.
There's an abundance of ever-shifting hues in that gaze, drawing one into its depths like a moth to the flame. And much like the kaleidoscope, it too is but an effect; for within it is hollow. The closer they lean into her touch, the more evident that emptiness becomes, naught more than a pair of lifeless rhinestones. And then, suddenly—
❝ You really shouldn't be coming close to demons like that with your sword still in its sheath. ❞ One large hand sufficed to clasp both her own in an ice cold grip, hoisting her up effortlessly by the wrists. It's an overwhelming force; to push against it would be to throw oneself against a wall. Bubbly laughter spills from the demon's lips, a ring of genuine amusement to it. Frankly, this was a little too easy, even for Dōma, who was not into tryharding for his meals. Abruptly, he'd let go and allow their body to either fall or land on their feet before him. His breath alone would suffice to kill them slowly, which was obligatory under that man's pressing orders.
❝ Not sure if I'm going to eat you though. You're cute but— even for a Hashira you strike me as a little stupid. ❞