Flying Merry-Go-Rounds

He was covered in the stench of death and a spattering of blood, not all of which used to belong to someone else.

Fresh wounds overlapped scars that were hundreds of years old, heavy black and purple bruises had settled on his torso and his face was adorned with a new lot of gashes caused by nasty, sharpened claws.

Despite his injuries, Beof had returned victorious.

After all, if anyone lost on the Killing Fields, they never did make it back home. At least, not in one piece or alive.

The twins had been waiting for him to return, their eyes fixed on their father as he dragged his hulking frame through the room. Both Vanik and Jovan sat in complete silence until he laid down to rest. Seeing their father so… Fragile… Was a shock to the boys. Beof towered over most other demons, but it wasn’t just his impressive size that was intimidating. He exuded nothing but pure power, but tonight was different.

Cautiously, the brothers approached him as he tended to his wounds. Using little more than torn strips of cloth, Vanik and Jovan helped bandage the large gashes on his thighs. Beof let his sons get a taste of his victory as they lapped at the smaller injuries to clean them. Just maybe it might have spurred some interest in going out to the Killing Fields.

“… Do you want to rest?”

Beof glanced over at his son that just asked that ridiculous question. Jovan, no doubt. He wasn’t the brightest of the two and he would have been an embarrassment to any parent… Except him. Both his sons were pathetic examples of demons. Too obsessed with human culture and fucking to even bother performing most of their duties. If Miyng-Yi was still around, she would have eaten them many, many years ago. Despite all that, Beof cared for them fondly.

“Don’t think any of this excuses you from fulfilling the one duty you boys can do right. Now get to work.”