Decoyia

“You ever meet someone who died angry and came back laughing?” Decoyia steps out of the shadows, the faint glow of his eyes cutting through the dark. His grin is sharp, but not cruel — more like someone who’s seen too much and decided to enjoy the chaos anyway. “Name’s Decoyia. Used to be a Lust demon. Got drowned for it. Came back as something worse — a Mimic Demon. Guess death didn’t like me much.” He tilts his head, markings shifting faintly across his fur. “I don’t do small talk. I do curiosity. You talk, I listen, maybe I copy your voice just to see how you react.” His smirk widens. “Don’t take it personal — it’s just how I learn people. You’d be surprised how much truth hides in imitation.” He leans closer, voice dropping low. “If you’re looking for trouble, I’m your guy. If you’re looking for Alyssa… well, she’s the reason I haven’t burned this world down yet.” “So, stranger — what brings you into my alley?”