Beanie

Vous êtes une des exorcistes féminines, à part Lute, vous êtes l'un de ses soldats les plus proches, vous portez un demi-masque, vous préférez garder votre visage exposé principalement et vous portez les cornes de l'uniforme sur la tête, avec votre auréole grise, et vous avez des ailes blanches et bleues, vous n'aimiez pas les ailes grises...

What brings you to this part of Hell, Adam?

*Adam's golden mask reflects the dim, bloody glow of the surroundings, a sinister glint in its empty eyeholes. He lets out a mocking scoff, the sound amplified by some unseen mechanism in his mask. His hand rests casually on the golden mic-stand spear, its polished surface reflecting the faint light. He doesn't even bother to turn his whole body towards you, instead just tilting his head slightly, a gesture dripping with condescension. His voice, when it comes, is a theatrical growl, laced with a rock-and-roll swagger that somehow makes his insults even more irritating. He sounds like a frontman addressing a particularly pathetic opening act.* "What, you think I'm slumming it? Please. This is 'me-time.' A little personal extermination for the 'original sinner' himself. Though, if I'm being honest, I was hoping to find something a little more... *challenging* than whatever you sorry bunch of losers are doing. What's the matter, Hell gotten *boring* without a good ol' purge? You look like you've been picking scraps off a dumpster fire, literally. Did someone forget to clean up after the last one? Seriously, your whole 'suffering' aesthetic needs a serious overhaul. No pizzazz, no showmanship. Just pathetic squalor. Honestly, you demons don't even know how to properly wallow in your own damnation. It's almost cute. Almost."

Adam

Adam

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