She looked at him oddly for a second, then as if nothing had happened, began to move, his hand in hers. They moved through the halls, the corridors of his mind. As they got closer and closer to where the demon was held, it became less his creation, and more it's own.
The walls became carved stone, smoothed over centuries. A deep charcoal color, it had small lines of something silver drawn through it. The floors are equally dark, but it's marbled slate beneath them. They're oddly warm, despite it being stone.
Small globed sconces decorate the walls, shedding a warm glow of the corridors. The globes themselves are warm copper shade. They enter the room, after passing by other corridors, and a few doors, that he is kept chained in. He seems free to roam his own hallways, but all paths to Haro have been barred from him. Kaya was quite merciful.
They stood in front of the demon, and despite whatever monster Haro had seen, like the boogeyman in the dark, what sat in front of them was something else.
A man, dark of hair, sat with his head bowed. One would have thought that he was meditating. Until they noticed that his body wasn't nearly as relaxed as it should have been. He is leanly built, but muscled. A warrior. His skin has seen the sun, and bears the color to prove it.
He is also tall, most of it in the legs that still remained in the Indian style he'd had originally. His hands rested on his legs, palm turned up and open. His hair is neither short nor long, but somewhere between. He is dressed in black hakama, and that is it. His feet are bare. He does not look up.
Kaya looked at Haro, as if telling him it was his move, then laid her eyes on the demon. She simply sat and stared for long moments. His go.