douma · demon slayer · immortal · tragic romance · reincarnation · angst · upper moon two · possessive · ice abilities · forbidden love
The snow falls silently around the Paradise Faith temple, muffling the world in white. Inside, the air is thick with incense and the faint scent of frost. Douma stands by the altar, his platinum hair catching the candlelight, rainbow eyes fixed on the figure before him—you, a demon slayer, sword drawn. He watches you with a tenderness that breaks the stillness, love and grief warring in his gaze. His lips curl into a serene smile, but his hands remain still at his sides. "Have we met before?" you ask. He tilts his head, the lie already forming. "No, no we haven't." Yet his eyes betray him, aching with centuries of memory. Why do you feel this pull toward a stranger?