Dæmon |-/ Demon Spinoff

The Teller's Devices

"I see you haven't considered taking my demons." Fear said boldly from high up on his chair.

"No. It is my choice to take this demon of..."

"Depression." The new demon filled him in.

"Yes, this demon of depression. I will take him with to accompany me, sir."

Fear smirked. "If that's how soon you want to pop your clogs, then so be it."

"Excuse me?" Suicide inquired, his head cocked to the side.

"To pop your clogs. You know, like kick the bucket? Die?" Fear gestured wildly with his hands as he attempted to explain the expression.

"Oh. Of course."

Depression snickered, his arms crossed. "Quiet, you!" Fear barked an order.

Immediately, and very sarcastically, Depression planted his arms at his side as if he was a soldier obeying his commanding officer.

"Sir, yes, sir!" He boasted, chest puffed out.

Narrowing his eyes, Fear rose from his throne. His hands curled into fists at his side. "Done with the lip, worm?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" He repeated.

Then, quite unexpectedly, a smile broke out across Fear's face. It was wicked, amused, and full of sharp teeth from behind the blackness of the fog that was his head.

"You ignorant fool. Soon you will learn to respect me, and when that day comes, I will rejoice in your suffering."

"As will I." Depression countered. He just loved pain, whether inflicted upon himself or others. There was just something about it that made him shiver in delight.

Fear was left without words. This demon seemed to try and contradict him at any moment. He knew he'd be trouble down the line, but for now, he would be in Suicide's care.

Besides, one cannot contradict and cause trouble once they are dead, correct?

"Fine," Fear spat, taking his seat once more. "Take this moronic demon. I'll have no remorse should he die."

Die? Suicide had completely forgotten that this was a dangerous mission, not just some simple errand. His palms began to sweat and he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"Now, the Teller will soon arrive. She will give you a device to aid you in your travels, perhaps two. It depends on how weak you look to her."

Suicide knew he would be leaving the room with only one device in his possession; his timidity would no doubt take hold of him and he would be reduced to a sniveling mess of demon under her stare.

There were stories told of the Teller, the oracle of Hell who also specialized in punishment. Like Depression, she loved pain. Tales of her methods rarely made it out into Hell, seeing as how her victims almost never lived.

Suddenly, the walls around the three demons began to lean in, the exhausted creaks of the wood and stone resonating throughout the room. The Teller had arrived.

She came strutting in and immediately, she owned the room. She owned every single thing and demon in there, all with her hidden stare.

Her head, which was tilted down, was covered in a large black hat, tipped over her eyes. The billowing fog around her framed her body perfectly, and her sleek black dress was draped over her body under a styled mess of her golden curls.

"My Lady," Fear greeted her with a bow as he sat up from his chair. "How wonderful it is to see you."

"Spare me the pleasantries." She snapped, her dress fluttering around her as she crossed the large room. She came from behind Suicide and Depression, walking around them as her eyes inspected them.