Hey There Demons, It's Me, Ya Boy

7: Oh, Lore? Also, You Cry Again

☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

"About what?" You ask casually, moving to sit on the bed next to him.

"I understand that this is personal, but it's about your scars," Satan points at you, "your sword, and just your general story. I want to know about it all."

Lucifer told you not to share you're a Demon Slayer under any circumstances, so you'll have to fabricate the truth some. Being painfully honest didn't work with Beelzebub, but hopefully, it works with Satan.

"Well, I'll start with the story," You close your eyes, "Since I was born, my mother was abusive towards me, my nine other siblings, and my father. She was killed when I was nine, and we're all better for it. It did leave emotional and physical scars, though."

You can already see Satan starting to get uncomfortable. You feel a bit bad, but hopefully, this will teach him not to pry in business that isn't his and to leave you alone about it.

"After that, I grew up in a loving home. But I had to be the main provider for them all. I didn't have time to worry about school, and when I hit high school, I just stopped caring about it."

You cross your legs and lean your elbow against your knee, resting your chin in your hand, "Eight months ago, I was thrown under the bus by someone I used to call my best friend. He almost got me killed, that's when I made a pact with a demon. He saved my life in the exchange that I devoted myself to work with him in... basically to fight crime as vigilantes. I couldn't balance it all, so I stopped attending school for good."

Okay, now it's time to start improvising like a damn pro. Makeup lies to cover the truth, but they have to seem believable enough to match the evidence your body shows.

"This demon has me as a type of spy. If he needs to infiltrate someplace, he sends me in as a spy so he can handle the rest." You jerk your thumb behind yourself, "That sword was a gift from someone important, someone's life I saved. But..."

You look down at your lap, trying to stop thinking so much of Gerik.

"I'll ignore the fact that I asked for favor with no questions about my scars. These scars came with the job. A lot of times, I wish I could quit. But then I remember those who I couldn't save. Those who were out of my reach. And those who were right there, but I was too scared to make a move. Those people who died when I had the ability to prevent their deaths, I have to live for them," Your furrowed brows smooth out when you realize what expression you're making.

"And now I have the opportunity to help unit humans, demons, and angels... Maybe this extra help can stop the worst kind of evil in the world. How can I pass that up?"

Wow. That was such bullshit. You're honestly surprised at how easy that story was to create. Maybe if you survive this, you should become a writer.

...

Nah, stabbing people to life is way cooler.

You wiggle your eyebrows at an expressionless Satan, "And that's all of my lore. Are you satisfied?"

"...So, the scars on your face and neck, those were pretty recent," Satan rubs his cheek, "How did you get them?"

"Aren't you curious," You tease.

"You're just... You're very interesting." Satan admits a bit bashfully.

Like a protagonist from a fantasy novel he read once. Satan couldn't detect any lies in your tone, and your face revealed a lot more than you were probably not aware of. So the fact that you most likely did have a crazy life made you all the more intriguing.