Damien
"Like I said before, missus, I avoid towns and the likes..." Damien was tired of repeating himself. It was hard to keep himself upright, and when a seat was offered to him in the dining hall--well away from everyone else--he was quick to take it, nearly slumping over onto the table itself. "Meat, please," he mumbled. "Don't get to eat it much 'cause I'm garbage at hunting. Don't like killin' things."
Were the bags under his eyes bigger? They felt heavier. Were they?
He felt Belial shift into a smaller form to take a eat on his shoulder. It was oddly comforting?
Guzzling the water he was given, Damien took note of Killian's presence--particularly the scowl he wore. "Hey, Killian was it? Can you not scowl so loudly? S'givin' me a headache." What was this dude's problem? Damien had come to the college like he'd been asked to, hadn't raised his voice, even went through that accursed ward that had made him feel like he'd been hit over the head with a branch. Repeatedly. In the head. A lot.
The elf rubbed his temples. Sleep would be good, when he'd get it. "Do ya got anymore questions for us?"
"It'd be wise to ask them before Damien here passes out," Belial added from his perch.
html by castlegraphics
