Disclaimer: I own none of the characters of settings to be found herein.
A/N: I have absolutely no excuse for this ficlet.
-o-
As the young, one-eyed man stepped out of the church, pale skin flushed and knives smeared with blood, Duke Hastur: Lurker Extraordinaire looked expectantly as his companion.
"Well?" he said.
"Well what?" Ligur gave a decidedly resentful shrug.
"What do you think?" Hastur pressed
"About what?"
"About my Jei!"
Ligur gazed critically at the youth, who was now licking the larger of his blades, while an orange haired creature with a wide, sadistic grin and ill-advised yellow bandana led him towards a silver BMW.
"His skulking could use a bit of work."
Hastur bristled. "That's all you've got to say?"
"Well, there's the company he's keeping too. I 'ave to say that I wouldn't let no spawn of mine hang around with common imps like Guilty. And you have to ask yourself why anyone would name themselves after that Farfarello down in the Malebolge... I mean, Malacoda or someone I could understand, but Farfarello's not even a Sub-Junior-Under-Count or nothing. I mean, even that bastard Crawly outranks him."
"Oh, and I suppose that your latest spawn's doing so much better," snapped Hastur, rather annoyed at his companion's denouncement if his son's diabolic prowess. After all, he had dedicated months to seducing that Irish nun.
Ligur gave a smug grin. "I'll 'ave you know that my little Samara's a first class lurker. And she's been spreading fear and despair like nobody's business."
"Yeah, using all this new fangled 'electricity' and 'digital communications' to do it. At least my boy's spreading terror the traditional way: with bloody sharp knives."
Ligur's grin turned malicious. "Well, I suppose he is a bit more impressive than his big sister."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"She's still stuck in that Silent Hill place, ain't she? Can't sew that much fear and destruction in one poxy little town, can you."
Hastur's expression became furious. "Poxy little town! Poxy Little Town! She's practically running a whole sub-division of Torments!"
At once rather palpably aware that he might be pushing Hastur just a little too far, Ligur took a step back. "Alright, alright," he muttered. "No need to be like that. I just reckon that your boy could do better, that's all."
Hastur narrowed his eyes. "Do better?"
"You know, with a bit of fatherly guidance."
"Fatherly guidance? You mean that you reckon I should go and talk to him."
Ligur nodded. "Yeah, that's right. Tell him what it means to be the unholy spawn of a Duke of Hell."
Hastur considered this. As promising as the boy was in other respects, his lurking skills did need a bit of work.
"Alright," he said. "But no more insulting my Alessa."