Asmodeus sat in the throne room, he hardly ever left it with nothing else to do except oversee the kingdom of the vampire he mostly spends his time staring out the dark windows. It's curtains stained with dirt, he didn't want it changed neither did he like the idea that the room should be cleaned.
He was getting older and for someone who had lived for hundreds of years, Asmodeus feared death more than anything else. He stared at his pale wrinkled skin for the longest time, no matter how much human blood he drank or even altered it didn't change how it looked.
He scratched the said palm with nails, digging it deep, letting it rip out the flesh. He sighed in pleasure at the pain that was immediately soothed by his fast healing. He enjoyed the brief moment when the pain turned into pleasure like putting a soothing balm over burnt skin.
