"I never hit you," the cyclops hissed, scars weaving in and out of folded, deep wrinkles that flared with his every word. "I never hit them, either, but I suppose killing their mother right in front of them was enough, don't you think?" Heath. Miriette. The third son, the third one cursed by that memory Jefferson had given him, and the cyclops didn't even know his goddamn name.
Jefferson didn't even know where to begin with understanding the comment on Lucifer "killing" the son that stood before him now, and that block of information only further built his fury.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he roared. Muscles locked and tensed, teeth bared, eye pierced — the monster faced him unrestrained, though still only a shallow remnant of the devil the wild Maluki had been. "Idon't want to be idolized! I don't want to be worshiped! I am not your hero!"
He backed away, dipping his head though his single eye did not yet retract its steady glow. "Whatever it is you're picturing me to be, I'm not. You're not your father — you're not stupid. Go home. There's nothing more for you here."
.jeffers-d04 .ooc {font-style:italic; }
.jeffers-d04 p {padding:2px 20px; margin:0px; text-indent:35px;}
.jeffers-d04 b {color:#77321A; letter-spacing:-.2px; }
.jeffers-d04 {background-color:#FBF4B4; background-image:url(http://sleepyglow.net/souls/gifts/2010dec/jeffers.png); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:2px solid #000000; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#6F6B49; letter-spacing:.4px; word-spacing:.3px; line-height:16px; width:450px; text-align:justify; padding:10px 0px 105px 0px; }
.jeffers-d04-border {width:454px; border:1px solid #FFFFFF; margin:0 auto;}
</style>[/html]