Part Two, Archdemon Belphegor mows down his wife

An illustration for my series of books "Smoldering Hell" https://author.today/work/series/11980 , to the seventh book "Smoldering Hell 7: Burning Paradise II: 99 Names of the Almighty" https://author.today/work/160832 .
The first work of the two is by link: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/XJeXKl
Color graphics, watercolor and pencil digital technique.
It can be said that this is again a diptych (a work consisting of two paintings-parts):
1) Archdemon Belphegor mows the grass with a trimmer in the courtyard of his so-called wife's country house
2) A few minutes later, he "mows down" his wife and her sons there.
France, Paris, modern years.
Ever since the writing of the seventh chronicle, I really wanted to depict this moment, but still did not have the strength to sit down for it in pictorial realism; and now, in graphics, I give drawings only on the way, so the old idea has now been realized, because I am very inspired (yes, I say honestly) by this moment from Belphegor's life.
I remember perfectly how I saw (remembered?) this event: I also mowed the grass, though with an electric trimmer, not a gasoline one, watched the blades of grass fly from under the fishing line, and the chorus of the song "Leningrad - Voyage" persistently played in my head. I look at the blades of grass in my head to this song, mowing the grass, and then I'm struck by a vision, as always, incredibly detailed and vivid, about what, in fact, is depicted in these drawings. And in general, this song, surprisingly, acted as a powerful trigger and turned on both me and Semiaza visions regarding the events in Belphegor's life during that period, as strange as it would seem to anyone outside (sometimes completely unexpected things act as triggers). And, of course, I described in detail about the above-mentioned event in the chronicle then:
« ...At noon of the coming day, Belphegor again volunteered to mow grass on a suburban plot; dressed in a coarse and dense apron, draped over a white shirt, and wearing protective glasses on his nose, the archdemon held a lawn mower-trimmer in his hands and to the side, stood in a corner of a vast plot, fenced with a dense fence, and watched as the trimmer disk turned a powerful, deafening buzzing loud, but how the blades of grass fly, torn apart and on the density of the apron.
But Belphegor soon felt, waking up from his thoughts, that his name was supposedly now; he turned off the trimmer, turned back in confusion, and saw that his wife was waving to him, leading the children to the house, smiling affably, joyfully, shaking her blond curls.
— Surprise! — She shouted to her husband, beside herself with happiness. — We're going to make a barbecue now!
— Great!.. — Belphegor nodded back, grinning a little.
— Stop mowing, darling! Come help me!..
And a rounded, massive grill was placed in the middle of the site, — they lit a fire in the grill, fanned the coals; slapping pieces of meat on the grill, Belphegor casually turned them with a tiny spatula, he was still in an apron, with his sleeves rolled up, but only took off his glasses so as not to interfere especially; the kids ran around the wooden table that stood with stools not far from the grill — wife laid a colorful tablecloth on it, straightened the edges of it cheerfully, carefree with the boys. Only Belphegor was not carefree, he kept looking at the pieces of meat, raw, bloody, spread out on a grate over the coals, watching with a strange look how the moist, pink flesh was fried, shrinking under the sizzling crust.
— You are so strong and courageous! — the wife came up to the archdemon from behind, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, smiling affectionately and watching how the man turns the barbecue spatula on the grill. — The children are so happy that we have you!.. — the woman whispered in her husband's ear, leaned closer, kissed him on the cheek gently, let go of the sensitive embrace, went to the table, joyful.
Belphegor felt the trace of a soft kiss on his rough masculine cheek grow cold; the archdemon stopped his hand with a small spatula, fixing his heavy gaze before him, turned after his wife; she looked back coquettishly, winked seductively at him, then stopped by the table, began to lay out the plates.
Belphegor then put aside the kitchen spatula, left the grill as it was, turned away, and walked slowly to the table, not taking his thoughtful gaze off his wife.
(continued in the comment)