getting them big boy muscles

Davey knows he's enough. More than enough, he's been chosen by Abraxas, brought here by some cosmic force. Immaculate conception, so he can deceive whoever and whenever and whatever he wants. It's all a good play, and all a brilliant trick. Is Davey much more than a trick of the light? Who's to say.

Wearing the red oncoming dusk around his shoulders and chaos like a crown, the boy swings his axe as he arrives on the battlefield. Gaze gleaming as he fixates on the boy, closing the gap with long strides and a grin playing on his face. "You." Head going low, shoulders rolling forward. Taking the low, postured stance of his lineage. "You're going to fight me?" A question, a directive, something like that. Davey was simply ready and raring to go.

"speech"