accxser:
A greater DEMON—- term not unfamiliar, though to call him a demon seems too small a thing. Not unknown, but little spoken of, as if the mere mention of his name would draw him forth like some terrible curse.
He feels cursed.
<< He is called THANOS, one who takes great pleasure in death. >>
Ronan’s violet eyes rest dark and heavy upon the one before him, silvered eyes showing bright beneath his dark hood. Fingers stained black tighten around the haft of his own weapon, energy humming beneath his palm, waiting to be sent where his will would take it should the need arise.
<< And who is your Great Demon? >>
The name was not familiar to his ears, as many other things whose origin traced back to another galaxy. But he did not need to know the name to understand tha archetype, he did not need to have seen the demon in action to recognise the impulse of destruction. Fëanáro breathed in deeply, like one who is about to yell, yet when he spoke his voice was controlled, restrained; even though he let the quiver of his rancour ring in his low vowels.
« Moringotho. It means “Black Foe” in my native language. »
It seemed that they stared at each other measuring their anger, or whatever strong sentiment raged under the surface of their faces; and he had an abundance of it, believing that none could feel wrath in a greater measure. But that one, his host, could surely at least rival it, maybe he could be the exception that equaled it; for few could meet his gaze, let alone hold it.
But not even such a challenge managed to kept his eyes away from the hammer for long. It seemed to bend the very structure of the Force around them, even though the Accuser was no Force-user. The hands and mind that had wrought that weapon into existence had capture in such a power that, for a moment, the thought of their work enraptured him.
« It is a creature... », he said, slowly moving his attention to other again; « ---An ancient creature, some would call him a god. But I much prefer to define him and his brethren as filth. »
