people say hate is a wasted emotion, a destructive force you can do nothing useful with. they're wrong. i've gripped rage, i've wielded it like a weapon.
“Yes. You remind me of a certain… Reaper. Except obviously you don’t carry that golden radiance like he does. Or that violet palette like another reaper I know.”
Tapping his nose.
“When you’ve been in hell for so long, you can smell what sort of species you’re interacting with. And your scent is… Rotten, like a bad corpse.”
“People say that Heaven and Hell are completely different places. I wandered about, passed through those places and… They really (aren’t) different. One’s just dark, hot and stink. The other is just too bright and colourful.”
Taking a dagger from the drawer in his nightstand.
Slowly bringing said blade up to his hair which was tied up in a ponytail.
Deep sigh as he swung the dagger through his hair.
Holding the clump of hair in his hand.
“I’ve lived long enough anyhow.”
“After some minor tweaks and with the help of my daughters… I present… The nifflers! Yes, my daughters wanted to bring a creation from a book to life, and I made it possible.”
“Just… Don’t leave anything gold or shiny laying around, unless you wanna fetch it from the niffler”