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SpartanAmethyst
Akaroth
Male
Akaroth is mischievous, but not evil. You see, he does things for the right reason, just... goes about it the wrong way.
Akaroth has always been a trickster, even when he was a pup. Halloween was always his favorite time, and it only made sense; he was the spitting image of Halloween, with his orange skeletal markings and dark draconic wings. He used to always look forward to dressing up in a partner costume with his owner, and then going out for hours on end Trick-or-Treating. Finally in the early hours of the morning they would return home and binge on all of the good candy. From there, she grew up, and he became her "party buddy", where they'd attend costume parties at her friends' houses and stay out all night dancing and drinking and having a blast.
All too suddenly, she was grown up with kids of her own, and now as an adult, they'd theme an entire family costume and he'd help them on their Trick-or-Treating excursions. Then they were grown and leaving home, and once again it was him and his girl, but she didn't go out anymore; instead they dressed up and stayed home, happy to give treats out to all the kids that came to their elaborately decorated house. Years continued to pass, and she became too old to decorate like they used to, so he did what he could, and eventually it was only her grandchildren that came to Trick-or-Treat, because she couldn't move around to decorate anymore.
All too suddenly, she was gone.
That was the only problem with being a demon; you outlive everyone you love. Her children didn't want him, nor did the grandchildren, so after the home was sold and everything gone, he was on his own. Luckily people in the neighborhood who knew and loved him helped him stay fed, but he lost his "good behavior" card on Halloween. Akaroth began going to neighborhoods he didn't know and hid in the bushes, scaring passing children in the hoped that they would drop their treats. At the end of the night he would take his loot and make a yearly exodus to the graveyard up on the hill. Underneath the old split oak there was a headstone decorated in stolen decorations: garlands, fake skeletons, anything he could snatch in the dead of night. He'd lay down with his loot, pick out the candies he remembered were her most favorites, and leave them at the base of the stone. For the rest of the night he'd chow down on the remainder, talking and laughing to the name inscribed there. After all, his girl always listened to what he had to say; she was always the only one that could understand him.
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