[ While Ate's influence of doubt initially seems to have little effect - Belial has never been more committed to anything in his long, black, so-called-life; this is his divine duty as far as he is concerned – the threat of the Erinyes leaves him visibly hesitant. He freezes, eyes narrowing at the heathen Queen as his smile slowly turns in to something colder.
The Erinyes. They were a threat that couldn’t be lightly ignored and wasn’t quite so stupid as to dismiss the threat of them capturing him out of hand. If it came down to it then he didn’t want to be sent in to their hands; he wanted his own kind. His own brothers, who had understood so painfully little of his motives yesterday but could possibly be persuaded yet.
The Holy Fire. It’s an uncomfortable pinprick of light in the corner of his vision as his gaze inspects the three deities and attempts to ignore the presence of the little mortal woman. It brought a particular silent crackle of godliness to the air which left his broken teeth tingling in discomfort and his anger flaring – no doubt exacerbated by the threat of those insufferably righteous upstanding brothers of his. Holy Fire could be battled, but the angels – they had collectively bested him once before, and there was a sinking feeling that perhaps they would do it again…
No. This was the heathen magic tricks talking. He refocused his gaze, tendrils of hellfire threatening to burst forth as he eyed the three (still ignoring the mortal) with new-found worry. ]
What, you want to hear me talk? Why should I talk to you lot? Get my brothers out here - and not those angel fucks. If they turn up I'll take out the whole city, you tell them that.
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The Erinyes. They were a threat that couldn’t be lightly ignored and wasn’t quite so stupid as to dismiss the threat of them capturing him out of hand. If it came down to it then he didn’t want to be sent in to their hands; he wanted his own kind. His own brothers, who had understood so painfully little of his motives yesterday but could possibly be persuaded yet.
The Holy Fire. It’s an uncomfortable pinprick of light in the corner of his vision as his gaze inspects the three deities and attempts to ignore the presence of the little mortal woman. It brought a particular silent crackle of godliness to the air which left his broken teeth tingling in discomfort and his anger flaring – no doubt exacerbated by the threat of those insufferably righteous upstanding brothers of his. Holy Fire could be battled, but the angels – they had collectively bested him once before, and there was a sinking feeling that perhaps they would do it again…
No. This was the heathen magic tricks talking. He refocused his gaze, tendrils of hellfire threatening to burst forth as he eyed the three (still ignoring the mortal) with new-found worry. ]
What, you want to hear me talk? Why should I talk to you lot? Get my brothers out here - and not those angel fucks. If they turn up I'll take out the whole city, you tell them that.