{ Continued from here | @patervenandi }
Sometimes demon’s were just…dense. He sighed, rolled his shoulders and looked back at her. He was busy, working - not on anything world shattering, but he was keeping busy. Keeping busy kept him sane. “Okay, you see this piece of oak pine right here?” he said as he gestured to the block. “That, that right there, represents your skull. This? This is what I do to demon skulls, along with whatever carcinogenic gunk you call a soul.”
She wasn’t dense. She liked playing dumb sometimes and she liked teasing Adam. It wasn’t her fault he was so easy to rile up. More so then maybe some demons she’d met. She swung her legs lazily from where she sat on top of the rock she was on as she watched him, raising her eyebrow at he motioned to the block of wood.
She stifled a laugh before rolling her eyes and leaning forwards. She motioned at the now very separated wood. “If you were going to do that, you’d have done it by now.” She pointed out. Her expression shifted to unreadable for a moment before she leant back. “You act like you hate demon’s so much, but do you forget that I was once one of your children? I wasn’t born a demon like some. I was made. I was born in Bjorgyn in the late 700s. I died on the battlefield and my place with Freyja or the Gods was stolen from me. I didn’t become this by choice. I’m working with what I was forced with. Although my fellow Knights would be shitting themselves if they saw I was just talking to you and not causing you some kind of misery.”
She looked away. Why had she told him that? She hadn’t even told her own son that.
