The Bhaalspawn's eyes widen, burning blood freezing, heart not beating but trembling. The vessel of his father lies on the floor, divinity seeping out like blood. Yet he can still feel his own dark divinity cursing his veins. His mind fills with sudden, abhorrent horror. Bhaal had died before, returned by overtaking his son's body, erasing all sense of self.

The Chosen grasps his chest, desperate to confirm it's still his own. Yes... there are still other Bhaalspawn. He is safe as long as they still live....

But what does this mean? Should he grieve? Should he rage? But all his blood-soaked soul feels is a strange, unsettling relief.

wings. 

if the hand belonged to someone else, her reaction mightn’t have been as bestial. a warning would have been given, of course, but her eyes might have softened. ( if he weren’t who he is, her teeth might have, metaphorically, been at his throat. ) they remain as hard and cold as ice. the wing’s tip is pulled out of @lordasmodei’s grasp.

“ i have a rule, ” she snaps, “ and while it applies to those at camp, i think i’ll extend it to you, too. ” is this too forward? too bold? too rude? likely all three, but she doesn’t care. “ do not touch these. ”

The undead tilts their head to the side. To be standing before Asmodeus himself is no doubt, daunting. Connor might be strong, but at the end of the day, he is no god. And he's most certainly not on par with a god that's been around so long.

To go about pissing off the deity isn't a wise move either. Best behavior on all fronts.

"No... I'm not here for that. In truth, being brought here before you by your men, I promise I am not here to cause harm. Not that I could."

A pause.

howl’s moving castle.

what are they? a cornered beast with its hackles raised and teeth bared, threatening to tear at the throat of its foe? they could have been, but they would be the beast with its tail tucked. 

“ do we ? as i have said all that needs to be said, i have to disagree. ” they’ve grown tired of devils and their tedious ramblings. ( aren’t there other souls to torment? ) tucking their wings is a comfort – as small as it might be, it’s a second layer of avoidance. they are trying to shut @lordasmodei out.

"Because mortals are useless..." is the swift answer that falls with exhaustion from the god's lips. He didn't like demons either, as they were out of his grasp of utter control. But what wasn't could always be one day. "And... I didn't exactly design my domain to provide guests with a pleasant experience. So visiting you felt like the well-mannered solution." Tyranny was always dressed in good manners and sweet words at first. Else no one would fall for it.

"I have the blessing of my queen already, I need no more protection than that. If I die, it will be of her will and I will gladly return to her embrace as that is my duty." Lithos answers quickly and sharply, inky black eyes boring into the others.

*      ―    ﴾  𝚗𝚜𝚏𝚠  𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚜  ﴿   :    𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒  𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘  𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

Hansel hums softly in response, his body relaxing against the devil lord's broad chest as claws gently comb through his hair. The softness in the great archdevil's touch is a sharp contrast to his usual terrifying might, and Hansel savors the warmth that envelopes him. His eyes flutter closed as Asmodeus pulls the blanket over them, the silky fabric sliding across their heated skin, cocooning them in intimate comfort.

"As if I could ever resist giving you everything, my liege" Hansel murmurs, though the exhaustion in his voice betrays the toll his abilities have taken. He shifts slightly, letting out a soft, contented sigh as Asmodeus's great wings fold around him like a protective cocoon. The steady rhythm of the archdevil's heartbeat and the warmth of his embrace ease the lingering strain in Hansel's body.