Truth

Davey laughs. He cackles, actually, the sound cursing the space around him. Everything about the boy is shining. Steady eye, far too intense for his own good, trained on the dark splotch of boy staring him down. Shoulders rolling backwards, grip steady on his axe. Allowing the head to hit full extension, relying on the steadiness of the chain. "Ooo, you want me so bad it makes you look stupid." Grinning around the weapon, tossing his head and giving it a reckless swing. As the boy closes the gap, it wouldn't be without danger.

"Of course not, I'm a fucking god." Invoking Abraxas, letting that magic flow through him as well. A child born of gods, of course he looks a little strange. Traditional looks are out, being weird looking in a hot way is in. A thought that refuses to fade, even as the creature's horns make contact with his shoulder. Oh, that won't do. Davey jerked backward, snarling as he moves. All rippling muscle and quick steps, he channels all the force he can into bringing that axe down-- ideally, right on his opponent's skull. Chop chop, bitch.

"speech"