Desmen Dreargur

Personality: 

Desmen is an extremely paranoid, jittery sort of fellow,  always seeming to think one or another bad thing will happen. Often his  mind will go off onto long, wild rants as to what could go wrong in any  situation, no matter how small, or how ridiculous his fantasies may be.  Due to his paranoia, he tends to be frightful around most anyone or  thing, and is incredibly easy to startle. He may be a bit introverted,  or try to hide from you at first. Just coax, or drag him out into a  situation.

History: 

From the very start...Desmen wasn't exactly the same as other  demons born. The boy seemed to have extremely odd qualities, his horns a  dingy grey, seeming devoid of life. Nothing about him would seem  special, even his grey skin was rather boring, and plain. Charcoal hair  simply draping in a boring manner. Though as per normal, there would be a  set spell for his summoning, and from the first time it was found, he  would be set upon the world to do as he wished. After all, by that time  the demon would be old enough to find his way, at last. Finally the day  would come, when one would find his spell and wish to contract him.  Appearing dull eyed and calm to his summoner, Desmen would contract with  the girl, the usual price of demons being her soul, at the completion  of the task set before them. 

Though...beside this girl..he would  notice..this..wonderful blue energy about her. It was so dark and  lovely..what could it be..? Upon his questioning, the girl would simply  answer that he must be seeing her aura. With further prodding, she  would reveal it to be the energy surrounding one's soul, the true colors  of the person it represented. Taken with this, the demon would  constantly admire the blue around the girl, and as they traveled,  examine others auras secretively. As time went by, each necessity being  clawed away from the list of what was to be done for her, the demon  would slowly grow attached to the girl, finding everything she did to be  of utmost fascination and interest. Learning so much from her, and the  world of which she lived in. By the completion of the very last task,  and his time to collect on his half of their arrangement, he found  himself to have no real desire to take what was his. He would be much more content to simply continue traveling around with her. 

Though...this is not what would come to be. His nature as a demon, and hunger would  overpower his mind and will. He would come from a haze memory of screams  haunting the walls of his mind, only to find the girl torn to shreds  before him, his own claws and clothing bloodied beyond recognition. He  would stare in complete horror at the scene, at what he'd done...the  very last image coming to his mind being of him devouring her soul..a  new color coming to his horns in the vision..clutching his hands into  his hair tightly, Desmen would stay by the remains for hours before he  would have to flee, leave the scene. There was no real way to explain  what he was to any other...except for who would contract him next. As time would pass, he would contract with thirteen others aside the girl,  each occurrence going the same way...his attachment, his instinct taking  his will and quenching his hunger with their souls...each time, the  color of the person's aura taking place in his horns. 

The memory of the  girl would never quite leave him, and with each added color, some of the  demon's mental stability would leave him. Eventually...he took to  carrying around markers to represent the souls he grieved..feeling an  unending amount of guilt. The first moment a single marker ran out of  it's precious ink, Desmen would look upon the object in horror, now  realizing that those could very well end by his hand as well. To  this..his mind would warp further, becoming paranoid and frightful.  Turning his thoughts onto his own body, he would take to dying his hair  in likeness of all the colors as well...but it wasn't enough to him,  even then. Adding the 14 colors to his clothing as well, he would  finally feel somewhat pleased to himself...'making up' for his awful  actions in a good enough way. Memory of them, memory that couldn't be  emptied or washed away. Since no soul or body remained to remind others  that they had existed in some way shape or form...he'd be a walking  memorial to them. It was really the least he could do, right? Right...