The old demon studied him for another quiet second.
Then he nodded once. "My name," he said evenly, "is… Malphas Dreadmoor."
"Oh… strong name, I guess. Haha." Amon chuckled slightly, scratching the back of his head.
A faint smile tugged at the old demon's lips. "Thanks, Amon."
A brief silence settled between them before Amon leaned back slightly on the bench.
"Anyways… what were you doing here? Sitting all alone?"
Malphas paused at the question and looked forward again, his deep blue eyes focusing on something far beyond the village square.
"What am I doing?" he repeated quietly. "…What can an old man like me do here sitting alone? Just like the others, I was… recalling my old days."
Amon's curiosity sharpened.
"Old days? You got some amazing stories then. Were you born in this village, or did you come from outside and get stuck?"
At that, Malphas's eyes grew heavy.
He exhaled slowly, the sound weighed down by memory.
