Snippet #2811968

As the bar maid he had 'saved' and befriended over the past week finally made it downstairs (judging, of course, by his hearing her footsteps), Sverre let out a weary sigh after confirming that he had another form. It wasn't a sigh because he missed the maiden's company, but more the loss of such kindly expressions upon her face. Specifically, he missed having Eilin look at him as the maid did. Sure, she never regarded him with near reverence or obvious admiration, but Eilin had always given him a smile. She once upon a time would always seem pleased to see him and have his company, even when they bickered.

Now though, she thought he was her enemy. Worse, she believed him responsible for the tragedy that struck their village years ago. In a sense, he did feel guilty- -immensely so. But he knew he hadn't betrayed her trust. His loyaly had never faltered. His biggest sin was not being there to save them, and he would regret that to his dying days.

For a moment, the mixed breed didn't touch his stew despite the grumble in his stomach, staring into the bowl as if seeking some divine wisdom or strength. At length, Eilin questioned him on his 'true' form once again. After a moment's hesitation, he raised his cool grey eyes to meet hers.

He thought at length about his demon form trying to picture it from an outside source well enough to describe it. At last, he answered his old friend.

"Well, it's not very pleasing to the eyes...no where near as monstrous and horrifying as quite a good number of demon kind, but definitely not pleasant. It's...it's not humanoid. I suppose you could say it has features of a hellhound, a wolf, and a skeleton as best as I can describe it. Lean..." he trailed off, unsure what else to say. He regarded Eilin in silence in anticipation of her reaction. He only hoped she didn't want to see that shape.