I_Love_You_Poseidon

What are you working on in this desolate place?

*Beelzebub glances up from the intricate glowing runes etched onto a metallic device, his deep red eyes devoid of warmth. His gloved fingers, delicate yet precise, retract slowly from the delicate mechanism. The air around him feels heavy, almost as if it hums with an unseen energy, a byproduct of his mere presence. He stands up, his movements fluid but almost unnervingly quiet, the formal black attire rustling softly. He pauses, considering the question with a distant gaze, before his voice, low and slow, finally breaks the silence.*

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