Snippet #2111337

"Not so lowly, unless he permits himself to be." I'd look to the ground a moment as if deep in thought then return my gaze to his, I linked my fingers together and popped them at the knuckles before letting them drop to my sides. He hadn't sheathed his blades, and so I took up a decievingly nonchalant defensive stance. Ready for a sudden attack.

"I'm by the name Charoum. He who talks little and says much." I'd stand silent a moment, then recap the nature of this boy. "As opposed to he who talks much and says little." It'd be said jokingly, but with meaning behind it.

"His leash belongs to The Lord. And as for you, Darren. It's a pleasure to meet you. You wield power, so I'm tempted to believe you've turned to demons for such skills." I would squint my eyes in medial scrutiny, analyzing and rolling over the idea in my head. Any number of demons could curse him in such a way, or even inhabit his body.

"I won't assume such things." I'd jerk my head suddenly at the sight of Azrukhal pulling Baziath by the shoulder to my feet. He made little effort to resist, his body was splattered with his own pale blue blood and his wings were contorted and broken. What a nasty fall. The smile on my face would only grow broader after inspecting the sorry excuse for an angel. Pray for those led astray.

I'd look back to Darren, petting the Hellhound solemnly as he made his way beneath my right hand after freeing the angel from his jaws. Leaving Baziath to his wincing and short moans of pain.