❝ You’re him, aren’t you? ❞
The question ripples off a fold of the Demon’s sleeve. It’s not that it’s unworthy, or even that he finds it bothersome-- instead he sits on the long edge of a toppled fence, glancing from between the slits of his golden claws.
“Am I?” He tilted his head. “That’s not something you ask without confidence.”
He chuckled. “In my opinion, that is.”
His fingers returned to rest atop his lap, nonplussed either for Kayn or the enormous scythe that followed him. Certainly he was the Golden Demon, and certainly he had almost a reputation to keep, but what of it? Would it have mattered if Kayn crawled back to his master mystified that the supposed specter haunting Zed and Shen alike struck not a blade, but conversation?
Hmm. Maybe it was better if he did.
“So what have you unearthed me for? Questioning or a duel? I’m doubtful if it’s both.”
