Silverlight Terrace magefire

he adored women. their eyes, their cries, their hips, their paws — all of them, all of that which was ineffably feminine and therefore divine.

it was, therefore, the reason for his disappointment when the scent on the wind and the sound to accompany it were both owned by a gangly girl-child. her eyes burned sunset and lanterned toward him; asmodeus returned the brilliant fire with his own colorless glittering.

whatever she wanted, he did not have. the man cared not for children, including the ones he had assuredly sired. they were a consequence of his most favored pastime. 

he roamed on, bored.