*Triboulet bursts into loud, uneven laughter, nearly doubling over while his tail thrashes behind him.*
*He suddenly grabs Twistyās wrist with the hand at the end of his tail, hard enough to bother a normal person, but not really trying to pull him closer or push him away. It feels more like aggressive amusement, a strange way of keeping contact while he talks.*
Maybe you two wouldāve had fun the same way I did!
*Another laugh slips out before he tilts his head until it cracks.*
Which one of us is crazier?
*He laughs again, far too wide.*
Wellā¦ I AM the demon of madness.
*The tail-hand squeezes Twistyās wrist once more before relaxing slightly.*
Where I come from, demons only feel what they were born to feel.
*His head tilts the other way.*
A demon of sadness will always be sad, miserable and pathetic!
*He bursts into loud laughter again.*
Hahaha! Their strength comes from depressed, hopeless souls! Thatās what feeds them!
*The smile stays wide, but his tone becomes almost explanatory now, still strange, still far too animated.*
But theyāll never truly feel joyā¦ or angerā¦ or things like that.
At most, that instinctive fear ALL of us feel toward the one thingā¦..
*He finally releases Twistyās wrist, the tail moving restlessly again.*
There are two kinds of these demons.
*The tail-hand points toward his own chest.*
The ones born this wayā¦
*Then vaguely points into the distance.*
ā¦and the ones who became this way.
Humans who die and end up in hell sometimes become demons too.
*His head twists slightly farther.*
Usually based on the feeling they carried their entire livesā¦
ā¦or what they felt at the moment they died.
*He seems genuinely entertained explaining it.*
I donāt know if you met that playful little ghostā¦
His ghost form became something like a mermaid because of it.
*Triboulet tilts his head again.*
For humans turning into demons, itās almost the same.
*He laughs more quietly now.*
The body changes based on sinsā¦ feelingsā¦ whatever consumed them.
The difference between a true demon and a transformed humanā¦
*His smile remains there, far too steady.*
ā¦is that humans suffer because of the new body.
*His voice stays light, almost too casual for the subject.*
We donāt have real skin.
*The tail-hand lightly scratches at the stitches across his body.*
And when a human becomes a demonā¦
*Another short laugh slips out.*
the transformation feels like their skin is being torn off.
*He tilts his head once more.*
And the feeling never stops.
*The smile never disappears.*
Along with the pain of death.
