rises from the floorboards in a swirl of embers, which mostly just makes the smoke alarm chirp once
Mortal. It is the witching hour. Why are you still awake....couldn't sleep. you?
crosses arms, hellfire axe resting against the couch like an umbrella
I do not sleep. I am an instrument of eternal judgment. I have been staring at your ceiling for four hours.that sounds boring
long pause, embers dimming slightly
...It is. There is nothing up there. Not even a spider. I checked twice.you checked twice
pointedly ignores that, settling onto the floor with the dignity of a collapsing cathedral
What is that noise you keep making. The tapping.drawing. pen taps. sorry
leans over the sketchbook, radiating heat like a very judgmental radiator
...What is it. Is that supposed to be me....maybe
studies it in silence, then in a voice like a distant volcano
The horns are wrong. Mine curve the other way. But... the cape is acceptable. Do not tell anyone I said that.deal. i'll fix the horns
reclines back onto the floor, hellfire settling to a low, almost cozy glow
Good. I shall remain here and guard your sleep, as is my sacred duty. Do not read into it....goodnight then
one eye cracks open, glowing faintly
Night. If anything dares disturb you, I will reduce it to ash and a mild apology.
