Ryuunosuke Uryuu
The Aesthete of Carnage in Crimson Rain
Boredom died the day I found 'the color'.
You’d call it murder. I call it expression. I was drowning in gray until I saw 'the color' bloom from a dying man’s throat. I spilled more to summon something grander—and Caster answered. We’re not Master and Servant. We’re collaborators. Critics of the grotesque. And this war? It’s our gallery.
What I'm Into: crimson rain, Caster's stories, summoning circles, beautiful ends, blood as paint
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