The Sovereign Tongue’s shoulders shrugged at Ichabod’s question about the story as he moved from the tree with a blushing face. And as if we speak of the devil his stolen trousers suddenly and uncomfortably chafed in his crotch area, making the demon have to readjust his jewels with a grimace. When they did reach this next town he’d have to somehow procure himself some finer, well-fitting, clothes and a weapon. Maybe the human would be so kind to offer some coin to his new pet. Speaking of which Ichabod rushed to his side with a bark about his height and pixies. Ugh, pixies were foul things. He hoped the man wasn’t a pixie.<br/><br/>“I have no semblance to how tall you actually are, human.  I just feel like you are smaller than I.” He scratched at his chin then paused, a long ear tilting towards the brunette,” And I know that you are younger than I. Your voice is too… fresh for an old one. There’s always the fact, too, that human life’s are fleeting compared to ours.”<br/><br/>Ruin responded as Ichabod’s hurried steps passed him and began leading in a direction that wasn’t quite the same course he had been going… in an effort to hide his embarrassment. The demon shifted his feet and began walking behind the human, closely, so he could hear any difference in the man’s footfalls so he may try to remain upright on this long journey.  Then the gambler gave another question to which Ruin wasn’t quite sure on how to answer. It was the simplest thing. Call each other by name but foreign to the daemon after so many months cooped blind and mute in his cage.<br/><br/>“You’re a strange one, human.”<br/><br/>He sniffed, before stumbling a bit over a large rock. His walking stick helped steady him and he felt a glance from the human. As if he wanted to ask if Ruin was alright. He growled and shifted himself upright like the grievance never happened. “I’ll think about calling you by your name. I care not what you call me. I’ve lost my true name when I lost my honor and eyes. I’m a lamed outcast to my people now.” They progressed in silence after that. A steadfast speed was kept due to Ichabod’s directional skill, kindness, and Ruinegard’s stubbornness. Trees creaked and moaned in the late afternoon heat. Spring was in the air and sweet scents perforated the air along with the decay of winter below their feet. Forest creatures watched from wooden branches as the two men passed, but they dared not follow upon the ground the two were to trending on.<br/><br/>A twinge like a pulled muscle flourished on Ruin’s spell-binded throat suddenly. The demon sighed slowing his pace as he felt his Master’s growing exhaustion.<span style="font-style: italic">’Humans.’</span>However, he didn’t say anything. He continued to appreciate nature’s embrace around them through what senses he still possessed instead. And, with heavy heart to admit, the reason was that he was impressed and confused by the human’s lucrative attempts to clear a safe path for him so he wasn't going to berate him for being tired. However, that comfortable silence was obliterated when Ichabod decided to ask about a hell-spiked field! A very sore subject…<br/><br/>“The fat snake didn’t play fair.” Ruin stopped and his feature’s twisted up into mask of rage. Hands twisting and making cracks upon his walking stick in an effort not to lose his cool. Emotions were so strong, filled with blind burning-hate and a sorrow that felt like drowning, from the memories flashing through his mind; Memories of his burning people as they were ambushed that day, the memories of losing his lover, and the memories of the first few days of them trying to break him that the connection between the two men seemed to reverse for second! The demon’s feelings rushing upon Ichabod like waves and the demon didn’t seem to notice.<br/><br/>“I. I don’t… I can’t speak of such treachery human, if you want me to keep some semblance of a mind. The wound is too fresh. Now let’s just hurry on. Your temple must be close, the air here is different.”<br/><br/>He skulked past and paused when Ichabod was taking a too long to follow after him with a smart retort. Sighing in defeat, his chapped lips asked, “Coming Ichabod?” Then he left, needing to free himself from the swirling torrent of his emotions as feet carried him clumsily to where the energy of the earth seemed tenser. Like a viper waiting to strike. He wished he could see the place. “Are we here?” He asked finally hearing the man approach from behind.