There were no two ways around it; Luche was flat-out terrified. Even her stunted senses could tell whomever she was speaking too was powerful. She wanted to flee, just turn around and run, but she wasn't anywhere she recognized, nor could her wobbling legs carry her more than a few steps. Despite every instinct and desire she had to run, her feet remained firmly planted on the spot.

There was nowhere to run anyway; the light behind her faded against any will she pushed at it, leaving her with no exit to flee to.

Trembling, the ditzy demoness fretted, shaking her head 'no' to the question poised. If she wore clothes, she would probably need a new pair of pants; instead of soiling herself, though, she was steaming heavily, creating something of a musk around her. Bright spots formed just under her eyes, molten tears slipping down her cheeks as whatever composure she had begun with started falling apart.

Fidgeting, Luche nodded as she hazily listened. Her instincts to run were quieting, but she was still greatly uncomfortable with the current situation. Unpleasant sensations washed over her, scraping against her senses with all the grace of stabbing knives.

Magog was at least taking their time talking to the bumbling demoness, not rambling nor trying to confuse her with big words. Luche appreciated that, but it didn't help much to put her nerves at ease. "[T-talk? What talk ab-b-bout?]"

Luche's head cocked to one side, quite bird-like. What an... odd question. It wasn't something Luche had questioned, as it had just been her life until the bright tear had appeared and released her.

Not quite sure where the conversation was going, Luche shrugged. "[Iunno.]" The ditzy demoness was still scared, but had added confusion to her list of emotions at the moment.

Fidgeting a while longer, she added "[Was just put there, don't remember when or why. Just show there one day when little. Live there until glowy hole appeared. Then I find new place, but really wet and cold.]" Luche didn't really know how else to describe her 'escape'.

First they didn't want her, now they did? Luche was back to being confused and terrified once more. Her fears and paranoia took over again, making her wringing hands and wobbly knees shake uncontrollably, her tail twitching irritably, and her wings folding around her protectively. Standing

Gullible as she was, Luche didn't know what to think of such a claim, aside from the immediate implications. She wasn't entirely brainless; the ditzy demoness knew she was too weak to even put up a passable fight -- as far as she knew, she was entirely defenseless. Her mouth could only blubber one word as tears choked her cracking voice: "[W-wh-why?!]"

Luche whimpered, unable to look away. She wanted to run, but her attempt to do so found her tripping & falling onto her bottom, unable to make her legs cooperate with the rest of her. Molten tears streamed down her face, her voice stolen by the terrified sobs -- hell, she was starting to hiccup from them, leaving her completely unable to speak coherently aside from murmured non-words.

Somewhere in her mind, a small portion of her brainspace was aware of where things were going, or at least her limited interpretation of it. The majority, however, wanted nothing more than a warm rock to lay on and somewhere safe to hide. Everything Magog seemed to be offering to her right now.

Still, that little voice managed to get one last hurrah out, and Luche found herself asking "[Why... you help Luche?]" She could barely believe she was saying it, but the words were hers all the same.

Some of Luche's nervousness eased at the other demon's words. Some. There was still a small part of her that was highly suspicious of Magog's words. Of course, that part was always suspicious of things, from world leaders to what was really in her breakfast.

Still, it didn't sound all that bad. For whatever reason, the leader of the underworld was actually interested in Luche. And she seemed really nice about it, strangely enough! That was good, right?

Tentatively, Luche grabbed the proffered hand, still sniffling and shaking a bit. She just wanted a quiet and free life, and that seemed to be what she was being offered. Whatever else came of it was, at the moment, secondary.

What could possibly be wrong with that?