A bridge. The large, looming sort, perfect for sightseeing, and even more so for suicide.
He stood at the parapet, his eyes cast downward, surveying the long drop before him. The last ember-like shards of daylight flickered playfully in his copper eyes, and, had this been a month ago, he would have revelled in it.
Now, however, sharp tears ground against the back of the aforementioned spheres, the prolonged exposure to which made them feel like they were encased in sandpaper.
Right now, he thought bitterly, my eyes are the least of my worries.
Well, to be honest, that wasn't entirely true. They were part of the reason why he was here in the first place. Another part of this reason waved lazily in the dying breeze, the sunset's colours accenting its own, making its already unusual pigmentation appear dark and almost brooding.
He sighed, and blew a lock of deep burgundy hair out of his eyes. Why red? I mean, come on, seriously? Can't demons have normal hair like everyone else? He groaned quietly to himself, adjusting his weight onto one foot. Feeling numbness recede from the other, he quickly glanced down to ensure that everything was still in place. Reassuringly enough, his leg still appeared normal, his thin and fraying grey tracksuit bottoms not betraying the metal plating that smothered yet another part of his reason for being here.
Shutting his eyes off to the world, he sank back into his thoughts for a moment, which he soon cast in the direction of his mother. Her face, mostly. Sure, he could recall her entire shape as clear as the daylight, but that was now fading, and he figured that her face was all that mattered now.
A wry grimace felt its way across his features at the thought. After these fleeting moments, he might never see her again, not even in his thoughts. He didn't know if such things existed where he was headed.
With bated breath, he placed his hands on the metal railing that edged the bridge, and near-effortlessly pulled his weight upwards, until his non-ironclad foot could be placed in between them. Following his body's momentum, his abnormally-covered shin clanged against the steelwork, immediately raising a wince from him as the abrupt noise tore through his silence.
Were it a month ago, he couldn't have cared less, but now, he didn't want to be interrupted, and any disturbance was too much. He needed to steady his thoughts, clear his head…
… and jump.
He froze for a few seconds, expecting a wave of fear to swell, searing its way into him, making him jolt out of his melancholy , lucid state of being. When no such wave made itself apparent, he rolled his eyes, and scoffed quietly to himself. Yeah, immune to fear. How could I forget?
Remarkably, he'd found it hard to realise that fear had no home in him, mostly because his family, upbringing and culture had drilled it into every aspect of his life; fear of rejection, fear of being different, fear of being mistaken…
As much as he had remained unwise to it until a month ago, he had been subjected to these fears throughout his life. Well, the life he knew, anyway. A small flame of hope lit up inside him as he realised that maybe, just maybe, things could change now, and that wouldn't have to be the case…
He shook the notion from his head, warning himself to be pessimistic. There's more chance there'll be nothing there, or nothing there that changes. If there even is a 'there'…
His doubts were understandable. Any information he'd furnished himself with was sketchy, at best. Half-glances at pseudo-medieval bestiaries in any library that hadn't kicked him out for disrupting the peace, or was blatantly observing everything he did, were the best he got. He inwardly growled a little. There was little proof of any of this, but, then again, there was an equal amount of evidence to the contrary. The only rock-solid proof of anything that he knew was the look of fear in people's eyes when he… after he…
His frustration becoming verbalised, he snarled, and gripped his hand round the metal railing, causing it to squeak and warp under the pressure. Enough. He thought to himself. End this now. No matter what happens, it can't exactly be worse, can it? He flinched as retaliatory thoughts threw images of unnameable monsters and gore across his mind. Sighing, he scolded himself for faking a response, and leant forward on the railing, the now weakened section of it groaning in stressed complaint. Unnameable monsters and gore… hmph! They haven't met me, have they? Perhaps it's time for an introduction.
The trace of a smirk was visible on his now cold features. The glowing fire in his eyes was the icy kind; he'd banished his emotions, and that was clear to see, particularly to him. And he liked it. With a final, almost wistful glance, he surveyed his surroundings, his gaze catching on a few idle walkers, bags of shopping slowly pulling their shoulders towards the floor, before moving onto a small, scruffy dog that was gaining more and more distance between itself and its distressed owner, lead trailing uselessly behind it, before finally settling on the steelwork between his hands. He adjusted his grip slightly, and leant back, emptying his chest of air, before throwing himself forward, and plunging downwards into the abyss below.