"Will you be mine, pretty damsel?", the devil asked.
"Oh, but you are the devil", the damsel sighed, " how can you be capable of love?"
"I would rather not be who I am, pretty damsel" the devil choked. "I do not savor what I do. But it has to be done and it is mine to do. I wish it were otherwise, but the die has been cast. I am who I am and I do what I do. "
"But your sharp horns will hurt me devil, and the fires around you will scorch me. The cold in your home will break my fragile heart."
" Oh, but if you only knew pretty damsel. These fires are the fires that burn my heart, my soul. The horns are the atonement I will carry to my grave. I may be ugly as a beast dear damsel, but my cold heart too aches and grieves and yearns and pains. "
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