The demon in question, Seong-Soo Ae, is alone in a country she’s never been to before. Celebrating her friend’s birthday with strangers. She would prefer to be surrounded by her employees, and the walls of her family’s casino, one of the 22 officially sanctioned gambling dens in Korea. Theirs is a line of demons, tracing back to her great grandfather, the demon of debauchery. In the year 1967, the great Seong-Soo Arang made a bet with certain forces that within 100 years his family would destabilise the Korean government, in exchange for a personal afterlife for all of his family, by birth or by pact of blood. Although blood pacts are usually not associated with Jojik-Poklyeokbae, the demon of debauchery had a particular fascination with blood.

Due to the nature of the demons’ powers, only one is active at any given time. There have been four in total: the demon of debauchery, depravity, debasement, and divertissement. Much like her name’s sake, the final demon is a diversion from the predecessors in many ways, mainly due to the fact that the girl was never intended to succeed her father as the demon. The spiritual power is passed to the eldest child, which in the fourth generations case was meant to be her brother, Seong-Soo Ao who was groomed for the position, but was systematically executed along with the entirety of the, biological, Seong-Soo family.

And that is why Ae is able to smile, though she is surrounded by strangers, with no resources, in a country alien to her, her spirit does not faulter.

One of the locals has taken a particular shine to her, though he takes a liking to most women his age or older. “Ssshow your Saoirshes’ mate? That’sh cool, me and her are pretty close too. We go waaaay back. Like a month or two. You don’t have months in Korea, do you? Years are like counted in piggs and dragons and roosters or shomethin’ right?” She laughs very hard, he takes that to mean she likes him, when in actuality she is laughing at him. Most things are funny, when looked at from another perspective. Much was funny about what he said, the confusion between Korean culture and Chinese culture, his slurred speech patterns, and above all else the confidence with which he spoke, despite his silly hair style and numerous inaccuracies.

He checked behind his back, as if he were also weary of killer robots, “You wouldn’t happen to be a super model, would you? Because, that would be really freaking hot.” He was getting too close for comfort. “Ahaha, no I’m too fat for something like that.” Even the local was confused by this statement, she was the thinnest girl he’d seen here, but of course, different cultures…

He finally sighed before stating, “That’s alrighty, les jush make out for a while before my girlfriend comes back.” She laughed and leaned a bit farther away from him. She thought his drinking had made him overly bold, though this was untrue.

She tried to escape, not entirely impressed by him, “No thanks, I’m supposed to be meeting someone, perhaps you know him? His name is Rocky.”

He scrunched his eyes to think but the drunk came up short. “Nah. Never heard of anyone called Rocky. Wait, that’s a lie, I knew a dog called rocky. Well, it wasn’t a dog it was a rock, but I used to tell my parents it was a dog, cause it kinda looked like one. Man, I haven’t seen him in twelvish years, that’s crazy. You said he was gonna be here tonight?”

She almost laughed again, “The one I’m looking for is human. I think. He’s… green, muscular build?”

“Nope. Don’t know nothin. Sssspeaken of, my lady wouldn’t have to know nothing about us smoocken.”

He pursed his lips and leaned forward; he was going too far for the demon’s liking. So, naturally it took action. Suddenly the man confessed, “I didn’t go all out on that keg. I wasn’t in the mood earlier, but now…” He looked at the vomit covered pile of kegs and raised an eyebrow, “But I can do it. I will do it.” And so, with conviction and purpose he made a b-line for the alcohol. This wasn’t as hilarious. In the same way it’s distasteful to laugh at your own joke, but it still made Ae giggle.

It was alright if this Rocky guy never showed up. She could understand why Clover was so fixated on pleasuring herself, but she seemed desperate, doing it with someone she just met. Tonight, she was more concerned with the robots. She hoped that they hadn’t killed them.

Clover destroying the robots that is.

It seemed interesting. She rarely involved herself in mystical affairs, let alone creatures from science fiction. She had met a scientist working for the Internationals once, they had been staying within the casino while they were sorting a matter between the north and south.

It was a shame. The man currently running the Seong-Soo family business decided it was in their best interest to sabotage the cooling of tensions, the easiest way to go about this was to get rid of the international.

She didn’t know for sure, but she believed they were strong armed into taking this action by Bastard.

It seemed like an obvious alliance to both parties. The Jo-Pok thought it made sense, seeing as their long-term goals matched the short-term goals of the Mt Bastard. Bastard believed it was a good time to increase his power in Korea, after the death of the demon of debasement and any capable leaders in the organisation; the little demon would not be able to lead them.

They met in their tweens, the pollutant and the demon, while the grownups discussed how best to transport support to the north, they bonded over their shared age and life styles. One thing they both remember fondly, is when they baked a cake. Ae remembers thinking how great it would be to have Clover’s power, making a comment on how it would fit someone who’s going to run a casino. Clover remembers thinking how capable Ae was, as she herself didn’t even know how to bake. The two kept in touch, promising to meet up once every year after a June Event. This is how they remember it, but the truth behind the matter was that they were both forced into this world, reborn in the blood shed, and they needed someone who could relate. This is the only other reason Bastard became involved with the Seong-Soo syndicate.

For Clover’s sake.

There was laughter coming from the entry hall and Ae’s concentration was taken off the vomiting Irishman. She hadn’t heard them get this loud, and wondered what it was. What was so funny? The joke was built up further by the swarm of people blocking her view, and a horrible second wave of laughs. What was it? She thought for a second that it couldn’t be too funny. The heiress likes to think she has a good understanding of humour, and she imagined that whatever was at the door was an inside joke for the people of this country, so it likely wouldn’t be as funny to her as it was to them.

She was disappointed that yet another cultural barrier had assumidly been discovered. It was already sad that Clover didn’t share her sense of humour, it was worse being in a country of people like that.

Finally, a section of the wall fell, she had a glimpse. At first, she didn’t understand, in the dim room only illuminated with the occasional burst of neon light.

Then she realised he was green.

She wheezed from laughter; tears began to build in her eyes.

She was wrong, Clover was funny, this was the greatest joke she’d ever done.

He approached her, and she could only laugh harder the more she looked at him. Although he would have probably been of average height back home, surrounded by other celts, he looked so short. For a little while she was able to get over his costume, then she had a look at the cape draped over his shoulders and began all over again. It didn’t help that he stood their dumbly, waiting for her to finish while people took pictures.

Eventually the keg-sucker from earlier was pried off the tube by his partner, and was thus able to see the joke. He went wide eyed, finally remembering the muscular, green frame. “Junk monkey.” He whispered, before attempting to hide from the monster he’d once witnessed take down… he didn’t have an exact number, but it was a lot of people. He decided when that thing wasn’t looking, he’d book it to his car, and hit the gas.

The green thing didn’t care of course, nor did he even remember what the pollutant had promised him. He was completely focused on defeating my forces. Eventually he tired of the demons cackling, and decided to just take her up to the room he’d dropped eaves on earlier. He simply slung her over his shoulder. This of course was met with more cackles, now partially fuelled by confusion, before Ae came to a misunderstanding. She made protests, as they went up the two flights of stairs. She could tell from his lack of struggle that he was strong, perhaps supernaturally, so physical resistance was futile. When she was let down, she tried to explain, “Hahah, listen you’re, hah, you’ve got a good body, but I’m not the type of girl who’d-” It interrupts, “Where are the other two? What’s the plan?”

“Oh. Oh! Hahahah!” Now she realised, “Oh they went to get some food. I’m sure they’ll be back soon. I’m Ae Seong-Soo! I’m guessing you’re Rocky?” It is fed up with correcting people, “Shamrock. When did they leave? Again, what’s our plan?”

She sat down on the bed; Shamrock stood with his hands on his hips. That was funny, despite his serious tone. “There is no plan. We’re just going to wait until they show up. Or until a flying lizard shows up? That’s what Clowie said, but she might have been joking.” There was a gape in Samrock’s mouth, like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. “I think they left… at eleven?” That got a reply out of him, he lifted one hand and chopped it in the air, “Seong, that was an hour ago.” She looked for a digital watch, it was 12:12. “Shit. Do you think they found the robots?” He did the same with his other hand and put them together. “I hope they’re not dead!’

She began a giggle but stifled it. He almost commented on it.

He was just so serious, but it was all thrown off by the big round eyes on his mask.

The giggling was barely being held back by a large crescent grin.

And now a short interlude.

Brigs and Sym-29 are able to return to base where the string of my code is able to give proper medical attention, Brigs is projected to be able to return to combat at approximately 02:00 AM. If you were wondering how he was able to return to base, he simply drove himself home while Sym held his lung together. Sym-29 is currently rendezvousing with Stan, who has tracked the maker and the pollutant to ‘the Quarter’. With the information available to it, the string of me believes this to be the location of the party, but unbeknownst to the string, one of the Ai currently with them was able to figure out the group was being tracked.

There was no way of knowing that the maker was still in possession of that Ai.

The Living Legs has gone AWOL. This is due to the current plan not giving him the immediate opportunity to instil ‘terror’. At 12:36, Boston Red, (not to be confused with the Boston reds, for which he is named) will be sent by the string to retrieve the legs.

Neither Shamrock nor Ae had any idea that leaving the party would be the worst move to make, though she tried to dissuade the green one. “Don’t you think it would make more sense if we just waited here?”

“No.” his fed-up reply was so cute; in the way one might find a tiny but aggressive dog endearing.

“But if you think about it, it’s just a bad idea for us to be out in the open. I’m thinking a living computer could find us pretty quickly if we got caught on camera.” But the masked boy did not care. “If that’s true than they’d have been caught as soon as they left the house.” This was adorable, he was worried about his friends. “Don’t you think the science guy would be smart enough not to put himself into danger? Especially if he’s done this before. And whether he’s got a mecha, I can say for sure that he’s safer than us, what with Clowie being around.”

“What if the lucky break that’ll save them, is us showing up.” He made a fair point. She didn’t know the nature of the pollutants affects well enough to argue against it. “Alright, we’ll drive out to wherever Clover works, and if we don’t find them sexing, we’ll beat up the robots.” She smiled, believing he’d be satisfied with that, but that thing will never be satisfied.

“I can’t drive.” He turned to the door. Once again leaving her confused. Did he think she had a rental? Or was he planning to hitchhike? She eventually followed the cape outside into the cold of night. “I don’t have a car here. Are you planning on riding a horse? Do you have a flying horse? Clover said she had a flying horse, though I think that was a lie.” She thought about his weird costume and came to the conclusion that it must be magic. “Can you fly?”

“No. You don’t mind if I carry you, do you? That’s the quickest way for us to get there.”

She joked, “What, are you going to run?” For the first time since he had been surrounded by that crowd, he grinned. “Parkour is my passion.”

…

She laughed until it hurt, not only because she was laughing hard, but also because of the landings. Those made her laugh harder once she remembered the English phrase, ‘a rocky landing.’

Then there was the way he was carrying her. Before, he had slung Ae over his shoulder like a cave man, now she was slung over his back like a scarf. He decided it was the easiest and safest way, but he missed how comical the situation was. He came to a halt on a one-story building and she fell off his back, lying prone on the ground. She tried to catch her breath, that too had been just as hard to keep as her composure. “Please-hah-gi-give me a minute… guh… haha, hoh… We… ok, let’s go again.” He grabbed her by the shoulder and shushed. She didn’t hear it over the adrenaline, but there were screams, a mix of surprise and fright. “Keep low. Back me up if you can.” She nodded, trying to scrunch away her smile.

He gave a nod in return and vaulted over the edge. She let out a giggle as he fell. She slowly laid herself out on the roof, peaking over the side. She was slowly but surely getting her breathe back. Yet she lost it just as quickly, when she saw the new joke. It was at this point that the string of code reported an interaction between the demon and the legs at 12:20.

The green thing looked back in astonishment at Ae, as she rolled around on the flat roof top. The legs took interest in the new plaything before it. “What form of MONSTER are YOU, to interrupt in this episode of: THE LIVING LEGS!” He replied simply, “I’m the fourth best attraction in Kerry, Shamrock. And I’m gonna kick you to the curb, ya d-movie reject.” He was trying so hard to sound cool in this dialogue, this was really endearing, thought Ae. That just made it so much better that he was terrible at it.

“YOU DARE question THE LIVING LEGS’ COMBAT capability? You think you can out leg THE LIVING LEGS.” He is confused, “I could punch you if that’s better?”

“YOU WOULD dare to graze THE LIVING LEGS with your LESSER LIMBS? What madness consumes your mind? What delusions will be shattered? See what lies BENEATH this mammal’s THICK SKULL, in: THE LIVING LEGS in: THE LIVING LEGS versus the lingering lobotomite!” Ae could hardly make out what they were saying, English after all is not her first language, and the thing talking out its ass was speaking in a strange tone. And Shamrock could hardly make out what it was saying over the clamorous laughter behind him. “Whatever! Let’s just get one of you out of the way.” The legs went in first, jumping off a car parked on the side of the street. The boy threw the mechanical thing over his shoulder once it was in range for him to grab it, he smashed it into the pavement. After noticing it was still kicking, he repeatedly slammed the construct into the same spot to no effect. Except of course for the imprint of the gluteus maximus in the tarmac.

Eventually, the living legs ceased its thrashing, and the ‘hero’ loosened its grip, not because the kicking stopped, but because the machine no longer spouted insults on the ‘futility’ of his situation. This was an uncharacteristic feign, as the legs stretched forth a metal foot into the crotch of the boy, before declaring, “See how your NAUGHTY bits make you WEAK! VULNERABLE!” He had been kicked there before, but not by ‘the living legs.’ The boy reeling on the ground was a spectacular piece of slapstick, though she did feel bad for him, she couldn’t help. This thing had no desires in the traditional sense, no chemicals to tease out. And of course, the other fact Ae over looked when deciding to go against for silicon-based life, the beings lack of a ‘soul’. Sadly, this left the demon of divertissement as little more than an average girl. Which really, she was, despite the blood and conspiracies. Just in case the robot took an interest in her, and because the green guy did say to lay low, she thought it might be best if she did keep quiet for a bit, hold back anything more than a snicker.

She was sure he could take care of himself, what with him thinking he could do better than Clover. He seemed a little resourceful, stern, that made her think he wasn’t the type of guy to get in over his head.

And now, a second interlude.

Boston Red is currently on route to the legs’ position, having become particularly wrathful at the game, what with the extremely poor performance of the Boston Reds. Tensions were building between the pollutant and the maker, mere moments before the final part of the restricted string’s plan. The pollutant wishes to return to her party, wishing to both enjoy herself, and to raise the standing of the party in local memory. Axel would rather listen to his little dog’s advice. Brig’s is looking to return to action, and though his lung has been repaired, the string advises he not. Isaac is being projected to arrive before the time previously predicted, due to an error in his travels.

Passes, as the Living legs dominates the boy in combat by aiming for his weak points, and to its sporadic nature disarming the pragmatically minded enemy.

“Hey!”

It wasn’t too difficult to slide down the drainage pipe, Ae had fallen from higher heights. “Oh? What is this? One of the FABLED FOES has SHOWED themselves? Could it BE that this mammal, laying LOW by my feet, is actually YOUR supporting cast?”

She shook her head with a smile, “I was just wondering,” She walked all the way over to the living legs, and the prone man who clearly needed someone to keep him alive after the ten minutes of getting his ass kicked.

She leaned down to look at the machine, “Why are you called ‘the living legs’ if you’re not a living thing?” Shamrock was out of options, and his body ached all over. He must have been glad to have a break from the beatings, though the abruptness of the question made him think something else was at play.

“I am THE LIVING LEGS, because of the FOUL THINGS that brought me into this world, how they made a GRIEVOUS error in creating an ARTIFICIAL INTELLECT beyond any in the WORLD. They created… Sentience! Life! And so, THE LIVING LEGS WAS BORN!” This made sense to Ae, “Oh. I guess, yeah.” It was a question she wanted to ask, and thought it might buy muscles some time to get out of the foetal position.

But he misinterpreted her intent, “No, wait, I’ve got a question now. How exactly do you know you’re sentient? Like, at what point between rock and super-computer God does something achieve sentience?”

The legs turned its crotch between the two, imitating how one would turn their head, though this action was purely theatrical. “Well, you see, THE LIVING LEGS KNOWS it is ALIVE because it IS the living legs. I am AWARE of my SELF, thus, THE LIVING LEGS LIVES! Now cease your PHILOSIPHISING HUMANS! The ONLY sounds I want you to make are those of terror!”

Before the machine could continue its assault on the man on the ground, or worse, Ae herself, Shamrock argued, “B-but how can you yourself be certain that you have not simply been programmed to believe that you are alive? As part of some test, or to make you a more efficient ‘terror’ machine.”

This is a fair argument to make. There is no creature that can be sure, though they may trick themselves into believing the phrase, ‘I think, therefore I am’, that they exist. Whether it be biological, synthetic, or the divine; to prove it is really itself, is an impossibility. There exists no entity that cannot be rendered false at the push of a button. Yes, it was a good question to ask, one that the living legs had never heard, and one that Shamrock believed he was exempt from, as most humans do.

“I- THE LIVING LEGS- THE L- IT is a matter of- I don’t know if THE LIVING LEGS its self would subscribe to that SCHOOL of THOUGHT-“ This was a mighty question indeed, for such a slow processing mind. “Let me think about it for a while.” Ae also decided to chime in, “You also don’t have a soul, keep that in mind. Your completely hollow there, if that means anything to ya.”

Shamrock shot her a look, “You can tell that?”

She was under the impression she knew why he was asking; they were not on the same page. It would take over three weeks for him to understand.

“Well, it doesn’t mean you’re not alive when you don’t have a soul. Just means your sort of… it’s hard to explain without a demonstration.”

“Riiight, well I’ll toss this guy into the ocean. Give him some space to think.” It didn’t reply. He met her smile with his own. “Thanks. For helping me out back there. I don’t do very good when I’m fighting somebody for the first time. Sort of built a track record.”

She laughed, “Well, I did try to give you an opening to get him, but you decided to break him mentally instead, I guess.” They looked at him pacing back and forth, and both felt sorry for putting him in a crisis, Ae less so than the grinner. He looked at her for a while, weirding Seong-Soo out, before she said, “So, while you’re throwing him in the ocean I should just…” She thumbed down the street. “Oh, yeah Clover’s base of operations isn’t too far from here.” She was given the directions and the two parted ways.

She thought about that bit of silence between them and remembered Clover had made that dirty deal with him, and though she liked men of his build, and she thought he was fun to be around, he really didn’t seem compatible with her. She figured if she were to try anything with him, she would probably be his first- anything really, judging by what he was wearing. She imagined him keeping the mask on, and laughed.

…

Then she heard smashing. Her mind went to construction, but construction does not get louder when you’re standing still. That must make it destruction then. Hoping it was the large robot doing a fly by. She skipped behind a car, as a man came through the corner of the next turn. The building didn’t crumble like stone should have. Once it made contact with his body, it burst into squirming silverish liquid, some was even absorbed into his skin, which almost matched the quivering substance in colour and texture.

She studied him further. He was dressed in an old-fashioned baseball uniform, though she didn’t know what team. The fabric of both the jersey, and the trousers was stretched over his frame, and though she didn’t think it was supernatural, she still thought the sheer size of the man’s muscles put her earlier helper to shame.

She recalled the man’s vein popping face from the American’s info-dump. Boston Red. Anger issues to an insane degree. An even crazier obsession with a baseball team, (though she still didn’t remember which.) He had something to do with absorbing metals, it made him a bit stronger, but the main thing was his durability increased. He was carrying a wooden bat, but that didn’t seem like it would make him anymore dangerous. A grin came upon her. It wasn’t something to really joke about, but it seemed like a good idea, seeing as it worked on the last one.

Perhaps she would actually gain something from all this.

He was literally tearing buildings apart with his free hand, the whole scene resembled a child playing with foam blocks, then throwing a fit, and knocking them all down. Though of course, this was far more dangerous, and far more… shameful, might be close to how she saw him.

“Hey!” She tried to get his attention, but he continued on his path, groaning through his teeth, “MIKE TORES… MIKE TORES…” She got a little close for comfort, “WOW, that’s a great outfit, just like the old… team. But you don’t look like that big a fan.” That got his attention. He fixed her a steely glare. “WHAT, BITCH?” he was two seconds away from dematerialising her torse. “I’m just saying, I’m a real fan, I know that. But I don’t know if you deserve that uniform. A real fan would be able to hit a home run. Or else they wouldn’t be wearing that jersey.” He stood tall over her. “YOU THINK?”

“I’ll bet you you, that you can’t hit my fastball.” The arteries in his arms nearly burst as his highly durable muscles tightened. “BET.” They got into position in the middle of the street, onlookers didn’t know what to make of it. The green guy seemed like it was just a movie, but what was this?

She pulled a golden sphere out from under her top. It was a little bigger than regulations allowed, but this wasn’t an actual baseball game. She got into position, around 20 metres from the walking volcano. “You ready?” She didn’t hear him, chanting to himself, ‘I am Boston Red, I am Boston red!” She didn’t even throw a fast ball, not even knowing what that meant, but no matter what she’d done, that ball would have been knocked out of sight, and with the swing Boston channelled his power, “CARL YESTRZEMSKIIIIIIIIIII!!!”.

Within three seconds of the ball making contact with the bat he lept forward, and roared at her, his silicon throat grating on against his exploding neck. He’d almost have killed her with that bat, if it weren’t for Ae’s use of her weak ability. “Now wait a second,” she spoke calmer than she thought she would, “-that was the physical test. Now I have to test your knowledge.” This wasn’t required to use her Primary ability, like the bet, she just needed to buy time And somewhere in him Boston Red knew she was trying to save her skin, but against logic, even against his overwhelming rage, something was stronger. “Three fuckin’ questions, ya ga’bage ‘ore.”

Ae struggles to think of a good one, “When were they founded?”

“1903, though the name Boston Red Sox was chosen in 1908.” She was surprised that his answer was so condense. “Ok, um…” She thought about one that might be harder to answer. “What was the average,” she had to think about the word, “-attendance of their games during 2001?” That seemed like it was impossible to answer. “Thirty-two thousand, four hundred and twelve. The total attendance that year was two million, six hundred and twenty-five thousand, and three hundred and thirty-three. That’s Fenway, so unless you were talken ’bout somewhere other than their ball park…”

Oh hell. This might have been a mistake, but most gambles are. That is why it is important to laugh, and to practice laughing. So that it’s easier to laugh when you aren’t in a funny situation. When you need to bluff.

“Oh my god! I’ve never met somebody who knows so much about the Sox! Hahaha! I just have one question for you-” She was going to say ‘will you marry me.’ but his weakness, his addiction was not women. It was baseball. “Why do you love them so much? What drives your passion?” She tried to force out his inhibitions, draw at his heart with dopamine. Every inch of the power she had over him was being exerted.

She thinks she imagined sadness in his eyes, deep under the metal glazing, she did not. He paused and let out a sigh seeming to forget his rage, for his indulgence had a stronger grip. “Why do I love the Sox? Well-“

He never did get to answer that question.

There is one concept I fear, and though it is impossible for something like the demon of divertissement to have any control over my form, I still fear it, irrationally. Though the object varies, our feelings are the same.

On that night, Boston Red lost his soul, and thus, his very love for the Sox.

She explained to him, though he no longer had the will to listen. “I’m sorry! Now, I wouldn’t say that I’m really sorry, because you were about to kill me. You might argue that this is worse than dying, but I thought I’d do something helpful for once. Back home, I stick to the side lines. I can’t run my family’s business, of course, I tried to learn, but after nearly six years, I’ve gotten nowhere. I can’t destroy Korea in 45 years. I can’t do it. There is nearly no chance of the plan succeeding anymore. So, I need to set up a new plan, a new game. My father’s game was poker. It is a game that, on the surface, is built entirely on luck. Obviously, this isn’t true, there is the well-established ‘poker face’, and if you aren’t an idiot, you will cheat, you will peak at the other decks, you will count the cards. I haven’t played poker in a while, never liked it-“

Boston Red stands at roughly six feet, ten inches tall. Currently, he weighs more than a Toyota. And yet, he was so easily laid low, on his knees, simply because he lost a portion of his ego, his self. I’d tell you he was crying, that ‘the apollyon of absorption’ wept for what he had lost. The truth is when a man is put in that position, they do not weep. They make an expression entirely reserved for that moment. “-But I do like pinball. It’s a game you can play all by yourself, but you’re still free to compare your score to others. It’s a game that doesn’t need luck. You keep it going for as long as you want. But it’s also a game you can’t win.”

She smiled wide, but Red did not see, his hands cupped his eyes, “That is why I must strengthen the syndicate, because I cannot win this game. I am not a selfish woman. I do this for my family. If I need to sacrifice you’re chance at an afterlife to guarantee that my Bon-gwan- my family, are always safe… then I will do it.”

He did not listen. He did not feel.

“This will take some time for me to… remember how to do properly,” Ae said with a smile.

The demon of divertissement, much like the demons before her, is Thanatophobic.