You have suffered an Insanity.
The crimson liquid exuded from the wounds, of the torturous distress. The remorseless mauling of her own child, forever scarring his broken surface. Jagged wire, bandaging itself around and through the thin flesh, covering his neck, simultaneously with the onyx rings jutting out of his traumatized arms. The self inflicted trauma, running across his right eye stating only the true severity, of the seriously mentally ill.
The effects of this Insanity are not immediately noticeable.
His eyes, a deep crimson, infected with the very decrepitude as his being. At the simplest of contact made with them, one's mind would succumb into the darkness of the internal suffering. Their minds being torn apart, an outbreak of words flowing into every aspect imaginable. Utmost desire to end the misery, and suffering drills through their mind, at even the slightest meeting with his eyes, shining in the resemblance of his blood.
Insanities can never be cured.
His hair was the pigment, of the blazing fires that endlessly raged throughout the Underworld. Layered choppily, in a frantic mess, each end singed, a burnt black, as if incinerated. A cruel smile, laid forever spread across his face in memorial of the screaming souls the echoed throughout his mind. His neck twitching, shakily in attempt to keep a calm and collected composure despite the raging madness forever drilling through every component of his mind. Nonsense spouted through his mouth, the words clumping into semi-literate statements, as the laughter rang throughout his voice. He broke into hysterics, collapsing to his knees, surrounded by the opaque figures of darkness. He drilled his fingernails into his skull, the same crimson liquid staining his fingertips.
Utter disgust and hatred was all he felt for those outside of his realm.
A sickening malevolence was all he could feel for the ones who resided above. The authorities who despised his Lord, who looked down upon the Underworld with nothing but shame and hatred. How repulsing the simplistic thoughts were. His imaginative thoughts thinking of nothing more than watching their minds cripple in the insanity, immobilizing in the madness; the laughter echoed once again throughout the fiery hell.
Madness and Mania.
An incurable disease given to him as a provision. The most beautiful gift one could be given, the gift of insanity. Desirable, alluring, enticing.
