The little lady declares boldly that she is not afraid. Deathscythe Hell smiles, the corners of his black lips tug upwards causing the soft fur of his face to plush out. “I’m glad,” he sighs, the relief as clear as day on his dark face. He never imagined that someone would want to be around him. He had been brainwashed to believe that he was a horrible creature undeserving to have the sun's rays warm his flesh. For a moment his brows wrinkled in confusion. Why would his adoptive mother want to hurt him like that? “I can understand being nervous,” he says in a low and soft whisper.

This lady was really sweet. His ears pulled forwards as she laughed again. That was such a beautiful sound. He could listen to her laugh all day. It was nothing like the cackles that came from Lillyheart’s throat. His mother sounded like two cats that had been sown together now trying to rip themselves apart. He grinned at his own imagination but decided to keep that idea to himself. It would be very difficult to go through all the context with a complete stranger. Not to mention that by the time he had finished explaining the thought pattern behind the joke he would have probably forgotten what the joke was in the first place.

For a moment she looks very sad. Deathscythe Hell finds himself freezing. He holds his breath and the black hairs across his shoulders start to prickle. Did I make a mistake already? She looks like she’s going to cry. Oh please don’t cry! I don’t know what to do if you start crying. Oh gosh, Cersei, maybe I should have asked Faye to come with me. But as quickly as the sorrow had come it is soon washed away from her green eyes, like a flash flood. She’s now curling into him and for a moment he stands there trying to figure out what to do. What was he supposed to do? Searching inwards he lowers his head down and rests his silver chin across her shoulders. His head is heavy, but he doesn’t want to burden her small back with his thick skull, so he keeps the majority of his bulk on his front paws.

With his nose in her soft brown fur he inhales and enjoys the embrace. She smells like fresh air and aromatic flowers. Exhaling slowly a small whine escapes his throat, like a newborn puppy snuggling into their mother. Blue eyes shoot open in embarrassment, but he doesn’t shy away from the embrace. “Se-Semele?” He mouths her name and then stutters on it a few times. He wants to say it perfectly. His tail lashes once in frustration and he looks crestfallen for a second or two. “Your name, it’s as lovely as you are,” the smile across his face broadens and he sinks his head lower. Black nose is now sniffing all the way down her shoulder. He wants to learn more about his new friend, and his nose was his most trusted tool. He stops once he accidentally slips past her elbow and gently pokes her underbelly.

“Forgive me, Semele,” he retracts his head and takes a few steps backwards. “That was…” he begins but isn’t sure how to end the sentence, “rather rude of me.” It's then that he remembers that she had asked him a question and he answers honestly. “I have never been to Asteraia,” his gaze strays northwards, “I am … not very familiar with this part of Moladion.” Well that wasn’t a lie at least.

“I was going to visit Spirane, but there’s no reason why I can’t see Asteraia first.” Taking a single step forward he gently bops his nose to her wither, “Please lead the way, Semele.” He is all too eager to follow her wiggling path. “Oh,” he grins sheepishly. She would probably want to know his name. However, he had decided that his full name was a mouthful. “Please call me Dell or Dell-boy.” The taunting nickname that his adoptive mother had once used to spite him for all his failures had now become a term of endearment. Breaking that chain was just the first in his long journey towards true independence.