[Suzerain of Sheol]

The placid, magisterial face remains still, even as the soul within cackles with exuberant laughter.

"Oh, heh, I don't, heh, think they'll, heh heh, digest very well. To say nothing of the, heh, taste."

And then, suddenly, he rounds on Shealtiel, all hint of mirth leaving his voice.

"And you... you spoke my name. You think you're so clever, that reading some musty apocrypha sets you apart, lets you stand among those your greater and meet their gaze as though you weren't a pathetic human. How's your health, old man? I can see from here your lungs are less than half functional."

And just as suddenly he whirls back to Lev.

"You call this the image of God? How utterly insulting. Blasphemy and desecration. No wonder the angels rebelled. No wonder the Sariel took up arms once all bets were off. And good for them. You humans are getting what you deserve. All your precious knowledge isn't helping now, is it?"