[ The demon can feel the various curses blossom and take hold in the museum through the electric crackle of reality as it stretches and strains to accommodate the metaphysical activity. He pauses thoughtfully at the door, one hand held aloft curiously in mid-hum. Ah, an audience.
Cursing the Angel of Darkness, the king of the accursed? It was a nice try.
The cigarette - a thin, twisted thing clamped between thin, twisted lips - is drawn away as Belial pivots on one sneaker'd heel, Hawaiian shirt fluttering as he twists in the direction of his would-be assailants. While other deities around the world have been suffering Belial has been enjoying the surge of his own particular brand of faith: divorce from the love of Gods of all kinds around the world. He casts the cigarette aside, heedless of its path as it falls in to the carpet of the stairs. ]
Holy shit, you guys. [ A wheedling drawl that broaches the quiet stillness of the museum. There's no real surprise in it; if anything's it's a tone of faux-delight. His nostrils flare at the sniff of the wraiths in the air - a demon has nothing to fear from the undead, he knows this. A hand flexes, then rests on the handle of the door behind him regardless of vines; hellfire was only a blink of an eye away. ] Fancy seeing you all here.
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Cursing the Angel of Darkness, the king of the accursed? It was a nice try.
The cigarette - a thin, twisted thing clamped between thin, twisted lips - is drawn away as Belial pivots on one sneaker'd heel, Hawaiian shirt fluttering as he twists in the direction of his would-be assailants. While other deities around the world have been suffering Belial has been enjoying the surge of his own particular brand of faith: divorce from the love of Gods of all kinds around the world. He casts the cigarette aside, heedless of its path as it falls in to the carpet of the stairs. ]
Holy shit, you guys. [ A wheedling drawl that broaches the quiet stillness of the museum. There's no real surprise in it; if anything's it's a tone of faux-delight. His nostrils flare at the sniff of the wraiths in the air - a demon has nothing to fear from the undead, he knows this. A hand flexes, then rests on the handle of the door behind him regardless of vines; hellfire was only a blink of an eye away. ] Fancy seeing you all here.