Friday, April 25, 2008

The Concept of a Demon in Orange Flared Jeans

Harold crushed the diamond under his boot heel and shrieked, hopping on one foot while he pulled off the boot to rub the heel of the injured one.

They all looked away to conceal their grins. Only Jasfoup dared to laugh openly. “Did you really expect to crush a diamond with the rubber of your Cuban heels?” he asked. “Do you know anything about the relative density of materials?”

“Diamonds are hard,” said Harold, sullenly rubbing his foot. “Especially one that size.”

“Even more so when they’re the secondary focus of a Shadow Mage.” Jasfoup held the 132 carat diamond to the light, marveling at its clarity. “It seems such a pity,” he said, breathing on it. The jewel darkened and became pitch black, expanding in size until it filled his whole hand. “There,” said the demon, crushing it until black dust fell like water from beneath his fingers. “Let dear Mr. Paige try to cast shadows trough that.”

“What did you do to it?” asked Harold, staring at the dust.

“Diamonds are pure carbon,” said Julie, taking a pinch and sniffing it. “He retro-engineered it.”

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