Souls are fragile things. Arguably, they're the most breakable thing one can even begin to comprehend. With a single touch, they'll shatter. If someone was to so much as breathe on the surface of a soul, then it could be bruised. Souls follow their owners like shadows, invisible and silent. The weakest souls even get swallowed up by the shadows that surround them. It's a little sad, but not all souls are worthy to thrive. More valuable than even the finest gemstone, but harder to catch than a well-oiled fish. Most demons would say how amazing the purest ones are to eat, or to consume and absorb. Like fireflies, souls are fragile but glow with a sure and steady light; only when it's darkest. The light of a person's dying breath is brighter than even a star with infinite luminosity.
This is why they're so sought after by demons. Many demons enjoy bringing out the inner light of a soul, then swallowing it whole. The cruelest demons even pretend to love their prey in order to make it extra-sweet! But perhaps the cruelest of all demons are the incubi and succumbi. They are demons that feed off of pleasure. Often, they make love in their victim's dreams, and feed off that until they meet- and devour- them in the real world. But just as not all cats hate water, not all incubi are bad. But all incubi feed off others' pleasure. How they receive this doesn't matter.
It was a little windy, but a very sunny day. It was Wintertime, and Seymour was idling around. The city was bustling with excitement. The street he was walking in had close-together stores that seemed to all fuse. The incubus sighed a little at the cold, and his hair bounced a bit as he walked. Seymour was about fifteen, and was in his human form. As he passed a bakery, he stopped to check himself in the mirror. He was rather cute. There was nothing he could do about changing the color of his dark burgundy hair, but he didn't really mind. Seymour was tanned honey color and his eyes were a fierce shade of red. His hair was spiked slightly, so only a few tips were near his face. As an incubus, Seymour was born to be sex appeal, and he obviously fulfilled this role. But Seymour didn't eat souls, he just nibbled at them.
He was a strange case, to be sure. Instead of sleeping with his prey, Seymour worked on making them happy and let them go without killing them! His brother warned him that he was going to get caught, but Seymour had been posing as a human for ten years, and nobody had ever caught on. He had fed a few weeks ago, and was currently very hungry; if he didn't feed on pleasure soon, he wouldn't be able to hold his form. Seymour groaned in his hunger, hoping nobody from school would see him. He was a pretty good student, because his mind worked faster than most human's. He retreated into a candy store, inhaling the rich aroma of sweets and hoped it would hide him.
He had sensed it, something knew what he was. Unlike most feral demons, incubi were good at sensing without use of their physical senses. And Seymour had felt something laugh, as if saying, I know where you are...