<a class="username" data-user-id="169" data-username="@Kūkyo" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/169/">@Kūkyo</a><br/><br/><div class="bbCodeSpoiler">
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<span>Spoiler: <span class="bbCodeSpoiler-button-title">Rai</span></span>
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</div><br/>The loneliness had one out. Most suicides happened because the person who committed it felt lost, alone, like no one understood them. And no one really knew, or understood. It had been a long time, almost a few hundred years, since he'd been in love. He'd shut his heart off from those around him, and he was hardly ever seen outside of work. Rai turned down dates, friendships. It was easier that way. Easier to whore himself around. Which he did, because being an incubus demanded such things.  He had to feed at least once a week. But enough was enough. He couldn't take it anymore.<br/><br/>It wasn't that he wasn't good looking. Even short, standing at five feet, four inches, he was a looker. He had naturally blood red hair, with piercings on his face and ears, corset piercings down his sides. There was a gorgeous sakura blossom tattoo on his back and he radiated sex appeal, sakura blossoms and the night sky. There was a pendant around his neck that made him look human, though. So his demonic cat eyes, fluffy cat ears and insanely long tail were hidden, along with the black wings that enabled him to fly. He could get into bed with anyone, as long as it was a man. Well, he was a bit more vain than that. He didn't sleep with the ugly, diseased assholes. And he only slept with those who could not only top but be a dominant as well.<br/><br/>And yet, it wasn't enough. Not anymore. The loneliness ate at him inside. The mundane day to day work at the bars. The prostitution. Going home to an empty house...He couldn't take it anymore. Behind the alley where he worked, Rai had pulled out the knife he always carried with him. He'd already gone two weeks without feeding. He was lethargic and weak; a mugger could have easily picked him off he wanted. Though Rai seldom carried anything valuable on his person. Even when he was prostituting, all the expensive jewelry remained at home. A home he couldn't bare to stay at anymore. He'd found himself staying at the brothels more often than not, completely drugged out on alcohol and the energy he feasted on.<br/><br/>But he hadn't recently. Tucked between the dumpsters, where no one would likely see him, he slit open his wrists. Now that he had no energy within him, healing was nearly impossible. So he bled easily, and quickly, since anyone smart would slice vertically along the veins, not horizontally. And since he had a neurological disorder, it didn't hurt. He was already drunk, and he had even opened up the femoral artery in his legs to speed up the process. Rai could tell when his heart had stopped. He made sure the pendant stayed on, and reached down to wedge it into his cut open artery. Hopefully another supernatural being found his corpse and burned it, which was likely.<br/><br/>That sort of thing just happened, not that he really cared anymore. He just didn't. Even as he gazed up at the stars, pale and emotionless, he just couldn't bring himself to care. grabbing the knife with slow and weak movements, he trembled at the exertion it cost to cut open his own chest. Only the barest bit of blood welled, but he worked to dig into his own flesh, to rip through the muscle and bone, to get to his heart. He didn't have the strength to rip it out with brute force, because he'd starved himself. Though he was already starting to lose consciousness from the lethargy and blood loss, but he fought. He fought to end his life, because he had nothing else to live for.