Gavriil's Grandfather

"I believe it. Parents don't pamper to their children's every whim." he summed it up, figuring the woman probably needed a nice cut down version since she seemed to be coming up with questions he had probably heard a million times in the past. After all, in this world where it was riddled with death sna slavery, people had already lost faith, but from what Gavriil's grandfather had taught him it was understanding truly, what the will of God and his relationship with his children was. Of course, that goes with being quite sincere with the belief that God created everything in existence, including the hellhounds and the thieving vampires. All creatures of God -- all of them fighting over for power like children and their toys and never finding

Of course, he looked just a tad bit unhappy, but there isn't much he could do with that considering the situation was beginning to fly south with this one. "Fun." he repeated after her - unsure of what to do with this one. From what he knew, this hellhound was from the dome, seemed to boast stating as if they had been there since the fall of man, and was the one responsible for a few things Gavriil didn't quite enjoy in his books, and while that may suggest she was a high standing figure, he was fearless. It only made her a significant target to look out for -- much like a fluorescent tab to mark a page in a book. All he needed to do was figure out exactly who she is to the dome and he could either try to take her down, or leave alive with some notes taken for another trek in the future. If...it will come to that. He had to pace this right, and stay

In every battle he had fought, he was mocked for dressing as he did which was in honour of his grandfather who accomplished far more than he ever would have. He was certain his grandfather went through this in his later years. "For tradition's sake." he answered her as he kept it short and sweet. It was clear that he wasn't keen to the idea of entertaining this sadistic creature. His eyes still pierced into every bit of her anatomy: legs, back, musculature, and anything he could find that could give him a clue to the intent of her movements. He counted the seconds it took for her to move behind him and circle back into his field of view. It was stupid of him to try and be tough, he figured -- but he listened, and he kept every bit of his expertise on full alert. Eyes were on her tail, and he was itching to draw his guns; nearly holding his own breath to stop himself from making the first