Bloody Fire
Sometimes in his dreams, it rained blood. And he would raise his arms, and stand there, welcoming the metallic sweet smell of it; slightly intoxicating, yet inexplicably addicting.
Or perhaps it wasn't blood at all, but fire. Fire burning up the sky in a deep rich maroon. Blinding him but at the same time encompassing him, pulling him to it. To his own nature.
It was at times like this he couldn't decide whether it was really that bad being the villain. If it rewarded him with horrifically beautiful dreams like these. Maybe… even those wild strange dreams were enough, because he liked it, dancing in the blood of others that mostly undoubtedly he had killed.
Because he was after all, Kurei, the man of contradictions.