A Grim Romance (TomTord)

Sent Away

He had done it again, he was always here. Always. The male demon sighed sitting back in his chair his goat ears twitching and his tail swishing from side to side. The rings on his tail jingled along with his earrings. The teen scratched his curled ram horns and yawned waiting. He wasn't scared about the outcome of his crimes, he was Satan's son after all he could do no wrong. He was basically untouchable.

"Here again, huh?" Valafar chuckled. The teenager looked up at the other male who was in his human form instead of his demon form. He looked swanky in his suit and tie and slicked back black hair. He was even wearing fake glasses. The boy chuckled a little.

"And you're going out, again." He noted smirking. Demons only became fully human when they were assigned a mission or worse, sent away and banished from ever returning. Usually you got one warning and were banished for a couple of months, sometimes not, depending on the severity of your crime of course.

"Tord, just because I'm always away doesn't mean you can act up, you've got a really important role in this place. You're gonna be the main reaper some day for crying out loud. You were born for this, you're going to take over the original grim reaper. Do you understand how special that makes you? Your father has to work hard looking after everyone in hell, he shouldn't be worrying about you too." The older male rolled his eyes. Valafar was Tords uncle and Satan's brother, he was the grand duke of hell and his job was to lead people astray in their lives before they passed and came down here. A god of temptation so to say. He was the one who also looked after their punishment and helped his brother with a few cases of people who thought they were wronged in coming here. What a laugh, as if a mortal could be wrongfully accused of his crimes. Most people who came down to hell deserved it, murderers, rapists, pedophiles. They all made Tord sick.

"I know, it's just I'm still getting used to all these rules; it's fucking hell isn't it meant to be a place of misbehaving and disgusting behaviour?" The teen sighed sloping down his chair. Tord crossed his arms angrily looking away, he felt Valafar place a hand on his shoulder comforting him.

"Contrary to human belief hell is a place where we torture souls that have done terrible unspeakable things, things we shouldn't do to our own kind around here. It's about learning your lesson, ever heard of reap what you sow? We seek to scare the humans, not fellow demons. Of course, we can have our fun but Tord, you can't do what you did." Valafar looked at the teen with distaste in his eyes, he honestly had no idea what the boy was thinking sometimes.

"ENOUGH! YOU MAY ENTER." A voice boomed behind the large wooden doors that were engraved with designs of rams and pentagrams. Tord stared in wonder at the intricate carvings as he pushed open the large doors. No matter how many times he was here it still always managed to stun him. The teenage demon pushed the doors grunting, they were heavy and unable to be opened by anyone who wasn't worthy of Satan's time. The demon gulped and walked along the bricks of the floor looking towards the pits of lava on each side. He walked along the walkway to the giant desk Satan sat at and he looked up towards the leather chair.

"Hey dad." The boy chuckled nervously ruffling his caramel hair awkwardly as he took a seat in front of the desk. His fathers chair was facing away from him and Tord sighed. It wasn't often he saw his dad, he wished it didn't always have to be like this. There was an awkward silence for a while before the teen decided to begin.

"I'm sorry I-" Tord didn't have much time to talk before he was interrupted.

"WHY?!" His father snarled as he whirled around in his chair showing his angry expression. He was in full demon form showing how angry he was. His large red eyes narrowed as he glared daggers at his son and his tail was whipping from side to side. His fathers demon form was the stuff of nightmares. It was half ram half human, blood stained hands -which were more like claws- and teeth from ripping apart his victims. His fur was matted with blood and pieces of skin were dried in there hanging as a warning to anyone who wronged him.