[h2]Ezekiel[/h2]
"I understand." At the mention of his mask, Ezekiel instinctively touched his face, grazing his hand over his right eye. He had only started wearing it because of that; people would stare and ask questions and choose to focus on the eye patch he wore rather than his words. But most never questioned the skull. Maybe it was because he had always had a reputation for being odd, or maybe people didn't find it a good idea to question a man wearing a skull. Even if it had started in anger and spite, it had practically become his face. "It does feel odd without it, but in the long run it's trivial. I forgot how bright the world was."

Draken seemed particularly interested in the dragon currently up. She had a good performance, in Ezekiel's opinion. His standards were low, considering he hadn't seen many displays, but he admired the gentleness of the show. "I like the grace." He commented, taking his attention off the display to look at his god. "Do you know them, my lord?" It was hard to judge years when it came to dragons, but they seemed too far apart to really know each other well.

A dragon Ezekiel had seen few times in the past approached, with another beast in tow. It certainly wasn't a dragon, or a human. He wasn't sure what it was, exactly, even with his knowledge on different species and races. With his lord he wasn't worried, but they weren't exactly something he would approach on his own. His weary look lasted for only a split second before turning to Nexias. The dragon talked at a mile a minute, as usual. Much of the conversation went right over his head, as it wasn't directed at him, but he found slight amusement in the questioning of his mask. He would have a fun time explaining that to the church. Most, if not all of the orphans had never seen his face before. He gave a welcoming nod to the dragon, but not putting himself in the conversation as he focused on the elders discussing the child's performance.

One of the elders kept looking to Draken. He knew his lord's appearance wasn't appreciated by everyone, but the dragon had to be thinking something. After all, the rest of the council didn't seem to pay him any mind. He wasn't about to question the subject. Lost in his thoughts, he was snapped back into reality when the council addressed Nexias. They didn't sound too pleased. Whatever that tree was, it didn't belong here. He almost felt sorry for the dragon in the arena, so nervous already before the growling of three unimaginably powerful dragons.

[h2]Milhoro[/h2]
The other demons seemed to be having a hell of a time trying to kill one another. Or, maybe they were just trying to establish dominance. Or, most likely, they were all just pissed off and this was as good as an excuse as any to fight. The one had fallen, but not from defeat...Milhoro wanted to investigate, but their opponents already seemed to be on that. He wasn't about to get himself into a mess because of his curiosity.
 
His attention was taken with the other's as shouts ad the sounds of machinery drew near. Milhoro stepped down from the broken down slags of concrete, caustic shadows melting through the cracks. The humans, armed to the teeth, didn't frighten him. After all, if he could quell a hoard of demons, anything else would be easy. One could question the intelligence of someone who chose to go up against a demon, but he respected their dedication to their cause.

The other demon looked to have no problem with taking the humans head on. That was fine. It gave Milhoro a chance to pick his angle. He noticed that as the brazen demon attacked, there were deserters. Cowards. If they were in his army, he'd have them hunted down and crucified. And while he didn't necessarily have the time to do that to them himself, he could certainty teach them a lesson. Lucky for him, most of the remaining humans seemed focused on the tank slaughtering them. A few weary stragglers around the edges spotted the shadow, but their vocal chords were rotted out before their screams could be heard.

He cut off the deserters, immediately going for one in the center. The demon pounced, leaving only a rotting, unrecognizable mess of parts in his wake. Bullets were upon him, and he felt his patience running short very quickly as his tar-like blood started to coagulate. "Save a bullet for yourselves." His voice was deep, quiet, monotone; the last thing many of the deserters would hear.