There's a demon in the park. Well, a half-demon, anyway. He's sitting on one of the benches, which is sagging just the tiniest bit with the weight of him. A sword, golden handled and sheathed in a scabbard attached to a baldric, rests next to him, slid through the gap in the slats of the bench seat. On the other side of him there's a bag of bread, but since the season and the lack of a pond to flock to conspire to deprive him of birds to feed the bread to, the bag just sits there untouched. He's got his arms stretched out over the top of the bench's back on either side of him -- the right ending in a hand that looks like it should be on a statue twice his size, with three fingers and a thumb and possibly a little something extra on the inside -- and his head is tipped back, looking up into the sky in apparent contemplation.