I call him the devil because he makes me want to sin
Bruise is not what you would call an extremely talented father.
He is, however, possessive of those that he deems his own—and his prodigy is no different.
He is not surprised that Kaurma failed to deliver his child to him, and he intends to let her bear the brunt of that displeasure eventually, but he keeps an eye out for his offspring. It is not difficult to find her.
She bears the markings of the goat, that early form of Krampus, and his eyes sharpen on her as she makes her way through the meadow. He takes in her wings clung to her side, the beginnings of horn starting to curve from her skull. Not like the majestic, heavy horns that rest upon him like a crown, but he supposes that one day she will grow into them—at least something less pathetic than they are now.
He presses his weight upon the twig, letting the sound of it reverberate around him, tilting his head curiously. His sooty ears flip forward in the thicket of his mane, black eyes sharp with interest. His hand rests upon the Fear, and he begins to play the strings of them, curious how she will respond to it.
Without waiting much longer, he emerges from the shadows, letting them peel from his body and reveal the ashen gold of him. “Hello there, child,” his voice is cold, his eyes calculating, and he wears the terror like a cloak as he steps toward her. “Tell me, what is your mother’s name?” All the while, he lets the Fear hum behind him, the tune of it rising and falling with each and every breath.
(and every time he knocks, I can't help but let him in)