[actually, since sakyou is by the desk, he'll be able to see the photo inside the frame: it's of a young man, around chad's age when the photo was taken, and looking so much like him that they have to be related. (all the more so since he's wearing a pocket watch that looks suspiciously like chad's.) well, aside from the part where this boy is smiling cheerfully.
chad moves aside some of the things on the table... until a memory plays, and he freezes.
You are in the Demon Frontier: an ominous space, crawling with demons and devoid of any cheer. The moon hangs in the sky, amidst shadowy silhouettes.
Something constantly pulls on your consciousness, as if trying to catch your attention. (Vague whispers of join me, I will grant you what you wish for.) It threatens to overwhelm you, to fill your heart with anger and grief that are not your own—but you resist, putting up walls between you and the source. It leaves behind a dull ache in your head, but you do your best to focus on what's in front of you.
Your companion asks,
"... But why would you be able to hear the calls from the demon lord?"
"The power of corruption opens a door behind which dwells great power. The key to controlling it is to control the size of that door. If I lose control, then I will be no different from other corrupted warlocks."
You won't lose control, though. You refuse to. You are not defined by hatred or sorrow, and you won't be defeated by something this petty.
"The demon lords, however, are those who have crossed the door to the other side, embraced the power they found there, and transformed into demons."
"So the demon lord is calling you from behind that door?"
Tiredly, you say, "So to speak, yes."
"So, are you...?" she asks, hesitant.
"I'm not stupid enough to be convinced by a mere calling," you reply. "Also, I have no intentions of becoming a demon."]
no subject
chad moves aside some of the things on the table... until a memory plays, and he freezes.
You are in the Demon Frontier: an ominous space, crawling with demons and devoid of any cheer. The moon hangs in the sky, amidst shadowy silhouettes.
Something constantly pulls on your consciousness, as if trying to catch your attention. (Vague whispers of join me, I will grant you what you wish for.) It threatens to overwhelm you, to fill your heart with anger and grief that are not your own—but you resist, putting up walls between you and the source. It leaves behind a dull ache in your head, but you do your best to focus on what's in front of you.
Your companion asks,
"... But why would you be able to hear the calls from the demon lord?"
"The power of corruption opens a door behind which dwells great power. The key to controlling it is to control the size of that door. If I lose control, then I will be no different from other corrupted warlocks."
You won't lose control, though. You refuse to. You are not defined by hatred or sorrow, and you won't be defeated by something this petty.
"The demon lords, however, are those who have crossed the door to the other side, embraced the power they found there, and transformed into demons."
"So the demon lord is calling you from behind that door?"
Tiredly, you say, "So to speak, yes."
"So, are you...?" she asks, hesitant.
"I'm not stupid enough to be convinced by a mere calling," you reply. "Also, I have no intentions of becoming a demon."]