If I may be honest,
I'd love to see
your crimson sins splattered on the walls.
A mural of pain and torture to light my way home;
Please do accept, for the forceful way may taint your beauty...
Far more then it already has.
A delightful treat,
Oh so sweet,
For it is better to be an open sinner, than a feigned saint;
A drop of blood here...
A drip of ink there,
For a bitter exchange; A sweet compromise,
Has taken your soul tonight.
[ n a m e ]
"Alfred Foster Jones, though some idiots have labeled me as a 'wing-beast', an 'unholy specimen', a 'roamer of Hell', a 'Hell Hound', and once or twice I've been called 'the Devil's pet'. They were fools who wish to be impaled by their loved ones bones as they slowly have their flesh torn off piece, by piece, which I kindly did, so I advise you not to follow in those imbeciles' footsteps for it'll lead you to your demise. Unless, of course, you'd like to meet God, or Satan. If not you'll refer to me as Alfred, and nothing more; Understood? Or do I need to repeat myself?"</i>
|| A g e ||
"I'm not aware of my age; I'm not exactly a fresh face down in hell, and my birthdays were never memorable so my true age eludes me. "
|| G e n d e r ||
"...I'm not even going to bother answering or justifying this. "
|| A p p e a r a n c e ||
Unlike the darkened caverns of hell Alfred's azure, and rather alluring, eyes have ensnared many to follow these small beams of light, unaware of the predator seething behind their comforting, yet unfamiliar glow. Lots have followed him, wanting to catch or corner the source of these orbs, only to find the silhouette they'd been pursuing was a creature of myth, a demon. Jet black hair, possessing a rather large and askew cowlick, along with a pair of horns, and tattered wings to match, clashed with the American's pale, porcelain-like skin; Smooth, and cold to the touch. Though it's marked and flawed by a few scars here and there, as well as a large and rather prominent pentagram that stretches across Alfred's back. Sporting a toothy grin revealed an ivory, set of canines, only a few shades paler than the boy's complexion, yet it blended in perfectly with the fabric that bloomed off the neck-line of his charcoal, U.S. flight jacket. A starred badge imprinted upon the right, upper chest along with a small airplane insignia on the right sleeve, while a large fifty is sprawled across back are all found upon the leathery material. Jeans and a casual shirt tend to be a favourite of his, but sometimes he can be found with dress-pants along with a nice suite; maybe even a tie; it all really depends for the Devil's spontaneous nature can prove to be surprising.
|| P e r s o n a l i t y ||
With a sharp tongue and a large ego Alfred is not one to be held back from what he desires no matter how selfish, impossible, or unacceptable said goal is. He's no cup of tea to be around, nor are his words pleasant to be heard, although they simply can't be ignored due to the volume he growls these cluster of letters in. Although he finds his rude statements simply hilarious and intends them more as joke; not that they are taken this way. He's overly confident, not that his claims are illogical seeing as he is after all a demon, and simply can't understand or comply with the fact or myth that he's incorrect about any topic no matter how insignificant it is. Alfred's more then a bad sport, and sore loser doesn't even begin to cover it, but he's honest. This does not mean he won't play dirty, but he will never deny doing so. In Alfred's warped mind he sees that foul play is simply part of life and if you want to survive or win, getting dirty is just a small fee in the search of victory. He loves to agitate people, finding their anger simply a thrill or a simple pass time for himself depending on how strongly they react to his teasing. Speaking of teasing, it can happen to any one and most definitely towards his prey. Which is everyone. Whether you're simply used to amuse him, or have your blood and soul devoured just depends on his mood and his appetite. Both being very random and unpredictable. Personally he prefers humans over livestock due to human souls being tainted. He finds that spirits dripped in sins and vile deeds quite a treat but he honestly doesn't mind what he consumes. He'll even eat human food, finding it rather delicious, well, as long as it has meat. Alfred's favourite man made food is Burgers and he loves absolutely loves soda. More specifically Coca cola. Despite his playful and somewhat childish manner Alfred's temper is short, and his tolerance for humans is even shorter. Ignoring all of this he loves to talk and will happily allow himself into a conversation if he feels it's worth his time and effort. Although once his outer, slightly rough and edgy, perimeter is broken through his true idiocy can be witnessed, as well as his unusually cheerful side. He loves to be praised and there for gives it his all to be considered a hero seeing as he thrives off the title. Not at all being bashful, will remind one if they happen to have forgotten this all important fact. When he is in a happy state he laughs, smiles, grins and honestly won't shut his fanged trap to save his own life. When Alfred is somehow filled with this inexplicable glee a giddy smile can most likely be found upon his face, as well as a bubbling young teen with maybe even a sugary side. This side, of course, is covered by the silhouette of anxiety and paranoia . Only once in his time of roaming the earth had someone seen this sweet and care free side, but that person now laid deep below the ground and their soul hovered far above Alfred's reach. Thus he refuses to allow himself to become infatuated, or close to anyone but before the death of the one he called "friend" he was quite the opposite of what his personality and mental state currently consists of. Alfred used to be an overly clumsy idiot, this although has not changed, with a sweet soul. He used to be out going, always a smile pressed upon his face, no bitter and betrayed emotions swirling through out him back then. He absolutely loved other's company and gave affection to almost everyone and anything. Although now it's only a dark grin, smirk, or a scowl that rests upon his lips, his laughter only coming from pain of others. It's not that he doesn't want a friend or two, he's just so distraught and traumatized about the past he simply can't pull himself together when standing face to face with another being. Whether it be a creature that struts on four legs, two legs, or more he can't seem to resurrect his smothered self. After all, it is rather difficult to be someone who you've long forgotten.
|| S e x u a l i t y ||
Being a creature with no moral, nor a sense of purity within him Alfred does not care for the sex of his partner or their desires. Some may see this as Bisexual but the American's deep hatred for labels has pushed him to claim it as being open minded.
|| R e s i d e n c e ||
Although Alfred is an American, he found that at the age of fifteen he was shipped with his Mother to Britain where he currently resides within an abandoned church. Well, the attic to be more specific. It burns him to his very core to in such a building but after feasting upon his own mother's blood he decided to stay there, just to keep the small amount of memories the floor boards now held. Every crack, every chip of paint holding some sort of essence of he and his mother's time together centuries ago. He is now at the age of nineteen, or at the appearance of nineteen, and plans to stay there for the rest of eternity.
|| O c c u p a t i o n ||
Alfred desires no work, nor money for his life does not depend upon it like that of a human's. He feeds upon livestock, only lapping up a trickle of crimson blood that belongs to humans if left with no other option. Of course, he does cherish those few moments when their tainted or neutral life source sweeps across his tongue, their flavor filed away for reminiscing later. His stay in the attic is free, seeing as the church was abandoned long ago so he can stroll through out the building as he pleases, no fear of being seen by a mortal. Not that he does so often, it is a church and he is a demon; but hell opposites attract correct?
I can't save any one, nor everyone but I will try. I may not like you, or your species but to say I would turn my back upon someone in need, no matter the souls status or my fondness for them, would be against the small believes I have obtained in the short while of my life. I'm not a hero, that's a stupid and childish dream I've left behind long ago, but I'm not the villain. Just because you can't trust me, doesn't mean you shouldn't; and just because I'm a demon, doesn't mean I have to act like one. You may be impure, but I am no less; you may be pure, but I am no more. Maybe a childish dream can dull your senses, and a hero I may strive to be but old habits die hard."