☠ the demon Belial (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bargainbinding) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
genessia2018-06-20 09:53 pm
bargainbinding) wrote in genessia2018-06-20 09:53 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who: Belial and Szel
Where: Everglade
What: Belial is just kinda forcefully adopting people as he goes along
Honestly, he almost walks right back out of the "subarchway" the moment after he enters it.
It's been several long weeks of exploring before Belial feels like he's finally learned the ins and out of Genessia and it's surrounding cities, and gotten used to both the lay of the lands as well as their various little quirks.
And it's Everglade that feels the most like his own world without being in London proper itself, the Black swirling thicker here than within the other cities in a way that's almost comforting. And it doesn't hurt things, either, that there's no godsbedamned crow mage running about to bring the place to ruin around their ears. It's refreshing. Here, he can almost pretend that he doesn't miss the world that was left behind.
Then he steps through the first subarchway he comes across, curious to peek at what lay beyond, and realizes that, at least for a moment, he doesn't need to pretend after all.
If Belial didn't know any better, he'd almost think that he'd somehow stumbled back home. The place sticks of Hell, but he can't recall any lands quite so covered in slick, nauseating rot, even the trees pulsating and writhing with all manner of disgusting insects. It's in the air. It's on his shoes. And frankly, that alone should have had him turning around and exiting as soon as possible.
He still considers that thought even when he's finally standing on the doorstep of the large, dark castle further inside, rot still sticking uncomfortably to bottoms of his shoes. It's not one he recognizes, but... It opens for him at his approach, and it's enough for Belial to step inside as if he meant to be here all along, lava-glass eyes searching up and down the empty hall.
"Beelzebub." Because it has to be; perhaps not the one he knows, unless his tastes have gotten considerably worse over the centuries, but surely it's some form of him. "You've a mess outside the door here. Thought you should know."
Where: Everglade
What: Belial is just kinda forcefully adopting people as he goes along
Honestly, he almost walks right back out of the "subarchway" the moment after he enters it.
It's been several long weeks of exploring before Belial feels like he's finally learned the ins and out of Genessia and it's surrounding cities, and gotten used to both the lay of the lands as well as their various little quirks.
And it's Everglade that feels the most like his own world without being in London proper itself, the Black swirling thicker here than within the other cities in a way that's almost comforting. And it doesn't hurt things, either, that there's no godsbedamned crow mage running about to bring the place to ruin around their ears. It's refreshing. Here, he can almost pretend that he doesn't miss the world that was left behind.
Then he steps through the first subarchway he comes across, curious to peek at what lay beyond, and realizes that, at least for a moment, he doesn't need to pretend after all.
If Belial didn't know any better, he'd almost think that he'd somehow stumbled back home. The place sticks of Hell, but he can't recall any lands quite so covered in slick, nauseating rot, even the trees pulsating and writhing with all manner of disgusting insects. It's in the air. It's on his shoes. And frankly, that alone should have had him turning around and exiting as soon as possible.
He still considers that thought even when he's finally standing on the doorstep of the large, dark castle further inside, rot still sticking uncomfortably to bottoms of his shoes. It's not one he recognizes, but... It opens for him at his approach, and it's enough for Belial to step inside as if he meant to be here all along, lava-glass eyes searching up and down the empty hall.
"Beelzebub." Because it has to be; perhaps not the one he knows, unless his tastes have gotten considerably worse over the centuries, but surely it's some form of him. "You've a mess outside the door here. Thought you should know."
no subject
The hall is empty, yes, but the ceiling is alive. Industrial cables criss cross all over it, creating walkways and webs as if spun from some massive spider. Amid those would be the servants, a host of massive insects, obvious crosses of human and bug, chittering and calling back to Belial in a myriad of languages.
Some don't seem too displeased by this intrusion.
But far more look like they're nervously heading for higher ground. And there is a good goddamn reason for that.
"I didn't let you in, nor did I ask for your opinion, there's nothing wrong with the topiary." The voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, sharp and very, very displeased. More servants headed higher into the metal webbing, as the scent of opium smoke began to fill the air.
A herald it seemed for the actual owner of this gate, as, all at once, in a billow of drugged smoke, there he was.
Dressed to the nines, all six wings flared out like a sooty sunburst, looking very, very cranky.
Midge, as ever, perched on his shoulder to stare at their unwelcome guest.
"Knockings a thing, you know."
no subject
And lucky for him, he doesn't need to wonder why for very long.
Pete had accused him of being flashy, but at least he never assaulted her with anything worse than a faint smell of sulfur following his arrivals. For a brief moment he covers his nose, the smell of opium thick in the air even after the smoke began to fade from around the stranger. The entrance does its job well, though. Wherever Belial's attention had been before, now? Now it's glued to the man in front of him, on the startling sight of wings nearly filling the hall, and this sharp, clean-pressed man before him is not Beelzebub, that much he's almost certain of.
"So is Ortho, but it seems you don't put much stock in that, either," he says after a moment, remembering his voice as he frowns, looking up at the other man.
And looks up. Having to crane his neck is only slightly more irritating than the filth he'd trekked through to get here.
"But I'm terribly sorry. I was looking for a different puffed-up, shirty old bastard, though perhaps it's for the better if he's not actually here."
no subject
"I like my staff a lot better than I like ninety nine percent of the population here." Fuck off with your Ortho.
He didn't move to look down at all, but Midge sure did, gold-red eyes peering down with no small amount of scrutiny from his perch.
Szel didn't even tilt his head.
"Your boyfriend isn't here, answered your question, thanks for coming, bye"