sinner playing as a preacher

The demon asks moronic questions, like who will save Her? and who will save the preacher? Yezdao snorts at the ignorance, abhorred by the utter lack of disrespect he faces. Oukd Oura needs no saving, she is brilliantly powerful, a force much stronger than anything the pathetic Alastor could conjure. To speak with no knowledge of what you say is an idiotic decision that Yezdao looks down on pitifully. To not even know what you are saying is the ultimate tragedy. Alastor speaks with ease and spite, but says nothing. Yezdao does not waste his breath on the questions. After a moment of heart-wrenching foggy darkness, everything moves on, undisturbed by the strange darkness. Yezdao takes interest in the female flesh before him, his mind still wondering what she would feel like connecting with his massive body, underneath him, with him. It seems Alastor takes interest in the preacher, his eyes watching the dip of wings knowing exactly what Yezdao's body- groin- wants to do. Kiada takes interest in both of them, her words equally for the preacher and the executioner. The demon remarks something about Yezdao's coloring and his purity, the words fairly irrelevant as he watches the mare, only the flick of his tails suggesting slight irritation at what the stallion says about him. When Yezdao's foreign lilted words dance through the air, the mare offers her own back, his large ivory ears spinning forward, listening to the rise and fall of her voice as the meaningless words fill his ears. Though she knows not what he says, and he knows not what she says, part of him respects the duo-linguality of the mare. The easy switch from the language they spoke now and their native languages was, in his eyes, an attractive quality that meant a well-rounded, cultured horse. It is certain that if Alastor left right now, only Kiada would notice. That is until he introduces himself as Hell's Executioner, a title that garners a pointed look from Yezdao, who thinks the satanic stallion is foolish and naive for choosing to follow a dark path. He scoffs at the thing- the stallion who could be so great but decides to be something so dirty, dark and sinful. "You know nothing of the world and sound horrifically ignorant and not for the first time since we met moments ago." The statement is so plainly said that the bite of his words isn't detectable until you truly understand what he is saying. It is pointless to spit words in the face of others. The tone of language isn't the impact, it's the words themselves. Alastor had hissed words at Yezdao, but it had not affected the stallion in any way. A simple hiss wasn't going to make him tremble in fear, it was the diction. If Yezdao went around spitting I'm going to kill you at others, it would be far less effective than calmly describing in eloquence the way blood will drip from your veins onto the ground underfoot, dyeing the land permanently red from the anger and passion of the sins that so freely taint your blood. One is blunt, with a final ending, one creates tension, suspense, emotion. Part of the fun is in watching others squirm around uncomfortably from your words, knowing there is nothing they can do, knowing every small, beautiful  detail of what will happen right before it does. This is just the difference between the Executioner and the Preacher, Alastor just does, perhaps even with no thought, whereas Yezdao expresses and emotes, he conveys his message on beautifully packaged words and then follows through with swift, calculated movements. Yezdao knew that if it was truly Alastor versus himself, he stood a fairly high chance of winning, corrupting, demolishing Alastor. Yezdao's attention floats back to the mare, his thoughts reeling themselves back in as it does so, his focus once again on the curve of her spine, the swell of her flank, and the silky look of her overall. She introduces herself as a harpy and Yezdao looks at her curiously, immediately murdering his thoughts of passion and sex, knowing all too well a harpy just would not do for him. His raw attraction towards her still exists, exhibited by the lust that broils within him from such a simple gesture as a wink and the de-clothing done by the combined effort of her companion and herself. He did not want his destruction to be in the hands of this stranger, someone who announces she is a harpy so openly and willingly. It was rather surprising for the preacher that both of the horses in his company offered their sinful titles with no qualms. "Yes," he says softly, answering her question before continuing. "Tell me about these lands. Who resides here?" He wonders if there is truly anyone worth saving here or if they are all heathens like Alastor and Kiada. The idea of a land of sinners was interesting in theory, it would give Yezdao the opportunity to truly change their lives, help them find the correct path to follow, give them a chance to apologize and be forgiven, but at the same time it may just corrupt him further, leaving him a man with no identity, once a preacher and now a sinner. *** idk this post is kind of a mess, im sorry x: @Alastor