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A glimpse into the bond between my original character, who you’ve been reading
about, Derius, and M.J.’s original character, Eloa. They’re both Minor Sins and
we consider them our babies. Random blurb over.


Derius muttered about the various frustrations he had to endure thanks to the tentative balance. Damn the universe, where was his happy medium? First their mighty, angel enslaved ruler sent them on a grunt mission. They were sins, minor ones, but sins by right. That warranted respect and a decent bloodbath or two when favor suited them but instead they got dumped topside with no power, no real help, and then when everybody else thought it was right, they swooped in and ruined what was already a chaotic mess.

Second on his list of pointless torture was having to protect the rusted idiot that somehow still had a hold on the most powerful man in Hell. It was bad enough that he had to deal with human problems. Hunger pains, tired pains, muscle pains, pain pains. The human body was dying everyday and during all that he had to endure the wonderful insults from an angel. On top of that he had the fortune of also juggling not one but two pregnant women.

The angel was easy to ignore. Half the time she was in a corner cooing or singing to her growing belly. Eloa on the other hand was not so simple. As much as he hated caring, he did, he always did and as she grew to love the thing that was growing inside of her, Derius grew to love he gave her something that could make her forget the mortal hell they were in.

Just when they all settled into a pattern, and he stopped hating the situation in its entirety, the attack happened. The angels came to purify Lucifer’s weakness and succeeded. Derius didn’t care one way or another but then Eloa’s child was revealed to be the true heir and the one the righteous angel carried, it was Eloa’s and served perfectly as a decoy. It devastated a human Eloa, enraged a demonic Eloa, and in turn, it enraged him too. Eloa was his to toy with, his to enjoy, his to kill, and his to love if the century suited them.

“If you make me move this one more time I’m setting it on fire and you can roll in the ashes.” He growled out.

Without the usual blackness, his glare held half of its potency. That didn’t make him stop shooting them her way every time her baby made her spew out another whim. In all his rage and need to reset their own scales, he forgot how infuriating a pregnant Eloa was.