Beelzebul ~ Hakan's Christmas Bash
I didn't care much how long I lived But I swear I thought I dreamed her She never asked me once about the wrong I did
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@beelzebulx
Beelzebul ~ Hakan's Christmas Bash
I didn't care much how long I lived But I swear I thought I dreamed her She never asked me once about the wrong I did
Ba'al had invited the Devourer to meet at the threshold of the Moon Gate; it's power was nothing striking to the Archfiend but no matter what composed it, such construction was alluring to Abaddon. An appetite which could never be satiated still demanded to be fed and they knew full well that if they were to inhale the Moon Gate in it's entirety it would only serve as a snack that could be reinstated by the elves eventually. Their proximity to the elves went back to Eden's invoking, the very place which was meant to be paradise for the seraphim that had quickly transformed into a boundary to which they were kept. Reduced to sentinels, a far worse fate than tromping through the spoils of the battlefield; the elves in Eden had kept him starved and obviously that was more than a slight to Abaddon.
Alas, he played by Ba'al's rules; the other was surely Lucifer's favorite and though, at the end of the day, favorites mattered little to Abaddon, the means to an end were important where favoritism was concerned. It meant his dear brother, the Lord of Flies, had influence and pull; though Lucifer's vainglorious personality was this harrowing blind spot for the Morningstar, this was a statistic Abaddon did not ignore. A sigh, followed by the click of his tongue as though the command was up for debate, "And what are we waiting for? Where once I defiled the luxury of Eden, I could do the same in a single breath to this realm." Their head canted towards the Moon Gate, arms crossed as though their gluttony had turned them into an insolent child.
Even the refugees who wandered onto these mortal shores were pitiful, but Ba'al took amusement in the knowledge that the world the seraphim had gift-wrapped for Titania had been overrun by the very parasites that Lucifer refused to serve. All in all, it was very predictable; they reproduced at a higher rate, their short lives were prone to ignorance, and their inherent jealousy of robust longevity made them prone to fear and violence. It was only a matter of time before they devoured themselves entirely, Ulthar's precious garden consumed by the maggots he'd planted himself. Comical.
If nothing else, the family did think highly of themselves; pride didn't stop with Lucifer; it culminated with him. "I do no doubt you could consume much before they cut you down." It was not quite a compliment, but neither was it a reprimand; the only thing that would stay Ba'al's indifference was that Abaddon's appetite was useful. As was Mammon's greed, Asmodeus's penchant for corruption, Leviathan's gift for violence, and Lucifer's ego. Their inclinations and their attachments were their own, Ba'al didn't bother himself otherwise unless it somehow impeded his own path. He gestured towards the Moon Gate and beckoned his brother to walk through or eat, whichever he chose. "If you feel so inclined."
@abaddoomed location: Fey Forest, Moon Gate notes: They're hidden and the snacks are hidden from Abaddon because that glutton can't be trusted not to eat an elve
Lupercalia was in full force, the gears of the lycans and their pitiful machinations were turning but Octavian had found a safe haven there. Along with members of the Asphodel and other outliers, while the Greater Demon didn't have any particular interest in the witches, elves, or chimeras that followed Oztalun - the God was a means to an end. What that end was remained close to Ba'al's chests, they all had their interests, Morningstar was wanting for his glory to be spread, Abaddon wished to eat, Mammon wished to steal, Sathanas wished to destroy, and Asmodeus wished to corrupt. Sorrows sorrows and prayers for dear dead Astaroth (not Asher Roth), but there was a chance they could find another to take their sibling's place.
"Try to control yourself," Ba'al commented as his gaze wandered over the circumference of the Moon Gate. They were shielded from the view of the protectors that wandered this place; the illusionary enchantments were a small matter of concern where the archfiend of esoteric lies was concerned. Abaddon could have devoured them, their flesh, their magic, the entirety of their souls, but the ravenous dog would have only further alerted the elves that the archfiends were far from friends to those who'd fought to imprison them so long ago. Had they not taken to venerating the Seldarine once more, then perhaps Lucifer wouldn't have felt so slighted; these creatures would take the Morningstar into their life and side against them... Or their Laurelin would suffer the same fate as the last. "There's a whole world for you to consume just on the other side, but not yet."
"Then tell me you haven't thought about it." Ba'al leaned into Psyche's ear as his fingers trailed lightly up and down her arm. While the two returned to the party, those who looked on would only see the Goddess sharing the dance floor with one of the daimona that accompanied her. Ba'al remained a secret, forbidden indulgence, and should the world know that the Goddess had fallen in step with the archfiend who'd helped chase her people from their home... Well, disapproval would be putting it mildly. "Your head on your pillow, my lips between your thighs." Calling Ba'al a menace would have been putting it lightly, but he could still remember what the Goddess tasted like. The sounds she made as she came undone over the tarmac of his tongue or the breadth of his waist. He stepped back to offer the other his arm to escort, "You'll have to lead the way."
To say he didn't have an effect on her would have been a bold-faced lie. However, Psyche had been alive long enough to circle around the truth like it was an Olympic sport. If he wanted her to say the truth, he would have to do much more than that. After all, she had said to him that he would have to woo her. They weren't going to fall back into old patterns simply because he wanted it. No, that couldn't happen at all. He had quite a lot of apologies to give and she would only give him so much time to give them. How he went about those apologies? Well, that was up to him entirely. "‘Ma’haurasha." That was all she said in response to his words as he backed away and held his arm out towards her. Maybe it was too straightforward, but she couldn't exactly circled around the truth about that. "I intended to." Her arm looped through his own, gaze falling to the daimona that had been waiting for her to send them off to her home. A hand patted Beelzelbub's chest and stayed there for a moment. "I'll be sure to give you your own bed. You couldn't possibly stay in mine." She dropped her hand and the one that had been looped through his to walk ahead of him. "You may follow me," she stated with a smile.
END
It certainly wasn't the world in which she'd planned to release her brethren into, events of the end and all that Lilith kept from her certainly saw to that; alas, the deed was done and the blood that welcomed the archfiends lathered itself like milk upon the flesh of her host. "That was certainly not the intended outcome," and even those previously of hell itself, were prone to being blindsided; as if the original betrayal didn't come from their father, one in the very same, destroyer of Elysia. "All wasn't totally lost on him, devouring the lot of them is becoming more and more enticing." The great serpent, while seeking retribution towards their creator, could hold onto a semblance of humor in the news that he had swallowed each of the Blessed that remained above, whole. It was enough to unhinge her own jaw and paint herself a mirror image of Ulthar. "Their numbers dwindle," while those of the archfiend had only increased, "They so dearly wish to sacrifice in the name of this realm, and personally, I should like to let them." Ritual sacrifice, for the greater good.
"You do love a show." Ba'al could appreciate that about his dear sister, the attainment of blood magic was a perverse stroke of genius to weave through the minds of would-be sorcerers. He wondered what could be accomplished with the divinity in the ichor that had dwindled but still flowed through the veins of some of the seraphim of this realm. Naturally, Ba'al was more inclined towards fraud than violence, but that was the stark contrast between the two siblings that would always define them. "I do think there's some poetic irony to Ulthar's remaining faithful rising against him, his Grace replaced by the Abyss instead," Lucifer had voiced his preference already; Ba'al would make them hail the Morningstar.
Anger, grief, it was all swallowed by this net of anxiety that now swirled around him; everywhere Ismael turned the Archfiend greeted him, with his mother's presence surrounding them. This sense of no escape, of having to face what was before him as though the Innocent could navigate himself out of the mental web the Archfiend had created. Strained, jaw clenched, the cambion picked up the glass by it's fragile stem, "To the Abyss in the hopes it will take down those who think they are strong enough to meddle with it." Namaah and any archfiend included within that. Something, something, stare into the abyss and it will also stare back unto you. If there was one true meaning spliced within his own calloused words, it was the hope that Ismael would not fall to cruelty, would not lose his compassion, in his own plight against such abyssal forces.
"The Abyss can't do anything, it doesn't want anything. It can't. It's people who want." Ba'al stated as he clinked his glass against Ismael. The ringing of glass on glass completely altered the area about them; the scene was conjured from the depths of Ismael's mind. Beautiful, peaceful, and universal. Paradise brought up from the smallest detail, the sights, the sounds, even the sensation of the breeze that moved gently from the air. Ba'al was gone, Namaah stood in his place instead as she held the glass precariously. "As I said, there's peace on earth; what else?" He could leave Ismael here indefinitely, let the cambion wander through this paradisal prison that the archfiend had tailored to him; was that not what the Gods had made in Elysium? A gilded cage was far better than most received; it was much more than his father had given him. Namaah asked, "What does your heart want more than anything?"
So I grabbed my king and ran away to a land of death, where I reigned and people whispered that I’d been dragged.
"Who said anything about sharing a bed?" A hint of a smirk appeared on her lips. "I simply alluded to you taking me home." The music slowly faded away and she looked away from him for a moment to the party around them. What a party it was. Her gaze fell to her daimona that she had summoned for the occasion before flitting back to Beelzebub. An Archfiend speaking of sin? Well, she could have laughed. Psyche knew him all too well and she did not often fall into the games he played. He could surely do it with others, but he had never truly lied to her. Not unless it was something as blatant as the one he had just told. Her hand slipped from the back of his neck to rest at his chin as she looked at him. "A gentleman, I see." Her lips had gotten closer to his before she pulled away slightly. "Well, I did suggest that you take me home. If I go back on my word now, I'd be a liar, wouldn't I?" Hand dropping from his chin to rest on his chest, a brow rose as the joke left her mouth. A liar and a woman who could not do the same. What a pair they made.
"Then tell me you haven't thought about it." Ba'al leaned into Psyche's ear as his fingers trailed lightly up and down her arm. While the two returned to the party, those who looked on would only see the Goddess sharing the dance floor with one of the daimona that accompanied her. Ba'al remained a secret, forbidden indulgence, and should the world know that the Goddess had fallen in step with the archfiend who'd helped chase her people from their home... Well, disapproval would be putting it mildly. "Your head on your pillow, my lips between your thighs." Calling Ba'al a menace would have been putting it lightly, but he could still remember what the Goddess tasted like. The sounds she made as she came undone over the tarmac of his tongue or the breadth of his waist. He stepped back to offer the other his arm to escort, "You'll have to lead the way."
I got you sprung off in the springtime Fuck all your free time You don't need no me-time That's you and me time We be gettin' so loud That dick make my soul smile That dick make me so proud
@beelzebulx
"I usually do," she stated with a hint of a smile. Along with the fact that they had been dancing to music that did not seem to be of the type they were used to, they were also not the type to attend parties such as this. At least Psyche wasn't. She guessed the same could be said for him though considering that he had been deep within the Inferno, corrupted by the Abyss, for some time now. Even through that, she could not find reason to steer away from him. It seemed that their paths would always cross regardless of how much she had assumed they never would again. Maybe she should have been more concerned about what had transpired and the actions that had led up to her being pushed away from the home she had made for herself within Elysia. Yet she wasn't. All she could think when she felt his presence was that she had been waiting for him for far too long.
As the party around them faded away, her hand fell into his while the other stayed at the nape of his neck. Lips pursed together to attempt to hide the smile that had been forming upon them, she tilted her head. "The big bad Archfiend is just a big softie, huh?" She moved closer until her lips hovered over his again. "It's perfect. Thank you." Illusions were his specialty. Lying was what he was proficient in, but she was always adamant that he had never done so to her. At least, that was always what she hoped. "I want you to take me home, but I'm a lady. You'll have to woo me better than that, big bad Archfiend."
Eden sang around them; the twinkle of Telperion's silver light bathed the meadow where they moved habitually in time with the music. The step was one that they'd known so many years ago, though neither had ever had the chance to know one another in this way. Ba'al had watched instead as Psyche danced with another, quietly hoping she was thinking of him as she did. As prolific as Ba'al's lies could be, the archfiend never could tell when he was deceiving himself and when his feelings were genuine. Ba'al was nobody's fool, except perhaps where Psyche was concerned, because if she told him that the sky was falling, he'd be resigned to taking shelter and holding out for the end.
"Only for you," Ba'al admitted, though her remark brushed a smirk across his lips; he'd waited nearly ten thousand years to stand here before Psyche and he'd wait as many more as he needed. Ultimately, it would be the two of them; Ba'al would ensure it. "I'd never share a bed with someone else's wife." This lie, at least, was blatant: "That's a sin." As the music he'd brought forth came to a close, the world that the lord of lies has manifested for them drew to an end as well. "But at least let me escort you to your door."
Asmodeus looks squarely to the cockroach and their eyes narrow before they're flinging it off via shaking their arm. "I take being clothed very seriously." He wishes Ba'al would take a joke better considering his idea of a joke was well, all of this. Standing there before the other Archfiend, he crosses his arms across his chest. "How's Psyche? She came into the little shop I've taken for myself you know." Which was something they were still rather gleeful about when they thought about it. Actually the amount of people who came in to buy a little extra something were mostly amusing, but it was even better when it was someone they knew. "Getting all sorts of people in there."
"Stay out of my affairs, Asmodeus. I'll only tell you once." Ba'al's tone was leveled and grave, characteristic of the humorless demon. He'd yet to see the Goddess, but he could feel her presence somewhere at the party. He wouldn't admit to avoiding the Goddess; he and his siblings had made her and the rest of her kind homeless, chased them from Elysia's gilded steps, and brought them into this domain. So many years had passed that Ba'al was uncertain what he'd do or say when he finally did see the Goddess again. "I'll meet you in the foyer, don't keep him waiting." If nothing else Asmodeus had succeeded in getting Ba'al to leave him alone.
Beelzebub was always asking so many questions, always thinking one step ahead. He guessed his dear brother had to do such a thing though. Lies were the other's currency and that meant that he had to know every single person he interacted with before he interacted with them. Or he just had to be able to read them well which really didn't take much when Lucifer thought about it. People were all driven by the same base desires. Everyone wanted money, immortality and sex. That made them all too easy to manipulate when it was needed. Then again, Lucifer could've manipulated anyone he wanted with just a choice few words. Everyone listened when the Morningstar spoke.
"Convince them?" He couldn't help the laugh that fell from his lips as he gazed up at the ceiling. "I don't have to convince anyone to follow me. They just will." His shoulders lifted in a shrug as he turned to look at Beelzebub, or Ba'al as he had so graciously been having people call him. Lucifer was so proud of him for making people call him something so regal and not having them bat an eye. It was no Morningstar, but Beelzebub also wasn't Lucifer. "And, if they don't..." A slow smile lifted onto his lips. "Their meager blood will only serve the cause." His head tilted. "Or you'll just make them, won't you?"
Troublesome as their family could be, they were just like anyone else and could be motivated systemically; it would just take time. It was only a matter of time before the snail pace that this city worked at eventually caught up with them, so while it wasn't abundant, at the very least Ba'al intended to be prepared. There were troublesome powers that circled now, but the Blessed were debilitated, and Ulthar was gone; it was a good start. "Naturally." Lucifer's gospel was undeniable, and there were perhaps none more driven by selfishness than the necromancers who'd foolishly written their names in the book. Ba'al could use that, at least to start.
Ismael was about to retort with further snark and a lack of seriousness; the cambion had reigned in his stoic and hopeful manner throughout the entirely of the End, but it was slowly slipping as they were simply meant to all move on. The Innocent was certain of this as a familiar scent punctuated the air, Namaah was a creature who favored the mistreatment of the Abyss; a demon who relished in her lower status as a cubi. It was said they were those who refused corruption within the abyssal inferno, and Ismael merely figured she was already corrupted enough as a mortal before her soul ever ventured to it's depths. Ismael blinked as Namaah held out a glass for him, Ba'al already having helped himself as the archfiend plucked one from the tray. Ismael had ran from her, from the life she sought to create for him; a cambion was already doomed but with their cubi mother raising them, what chance would he have had? "No, no thank you; no toast," his jaw clenched as his throat cleared before Ismael turned to stalk away. There were no games he was interested in playing any longer, his gaze falling away from his mother who seemed so intricately placed in this reality, so real.
Even as Ismael turned, and no matter how often he turned, the cambion would be confronted with the same vision of the archfiend standing before him. Leaned against the side of the balcony with the shot in his hand and Namaah's tray, offering Ismael another. "I insist." Ba'al instructed; there was a lesson here muddled in with a test; the ruler of the eighth circle had a preference for pushing at people's limits. Placing them in situations and seeing what they would choose to do. Namaah placed her free hand on Ismael's arm and asked, her son if he had anything that he wanted to celebrate. It was just about the New Year, now was the time to make resolutions.
King of Lies, Archfiend of Misdirection, Ba'al is all of that and more. It doesn't surprise him that he had seen past his attempt to lower his barriers, to show him respect and attempt to pacify him. It had been a long shot to show deference, and he had known it, and yet it doesn't stop the raising panic that chokes him and keeps him sitting still as he waits for the torture that is sure to come. Elijah had spent enough time underneath his gaze done in the borgia to dare to guess what awaited him. A soft hiss passes his lips and he bites his lower lip, stopping himself from making a sound. There is the urge to run, to move and not look back, but he doesn't know how much of what is happening is real. Ba'al could have rendered him unconscious and spirited him away, he could still be at the party, frozen before Chrysaor's gaze.
There is no way to know, and that means that if makes any sort of sound, if he shows any sign of care for his banshee, he could doom him to the same hell that he is experiencing.
He can't allow that.
The hope of protecting Chrysaor vanishes as soon as it raises, fear striking as he whines in desperate panic as he bites his tongue desperately attempting to keep still as he is faced with Chrys and Aphrodite's temple. The sight alone is a far more powerful torture than the pain, his experience on the Inferno bolstering his pain tolerance so that the pain he is feeling feels familiar, but he gives the Archfiend the gasps of pain that he wants, hoping that it will be enough. He doesn't look away, not wanting to find out what he will do if he does, but he doesn't say a word either.
Ba'al had leaned in towards Elijah, thoroughly disgusted by the incubus before him that forming the words had almost been difficult. Elijah was spineless to the end, a liar, and not even a very good one because his tongue had been cemented to the roof of his mouth. Ba'al had found it pathetic that the incubus had nothing to offer, so he would lay his gift upon the other and leave him be. He planned to return after some time to see if Elijah wavered, but he remained insulted by Elijah's behavior so the incubus would need to be punished. After all those years in the pit, Elijah was still a sniveling cretin. After a few months with this dead man, Elijah had indoctrinated himself fully into the Abyss, so there was clearly only one thing of value that Ba'al could take from him.
Once more, the world about them shifted; it returned, and when Ba'al sat opposite Elijah, wearing Chrysaor's face, it was as though nothing had changed from just moments ago. Still, the Lord of Lies spoke: "My curse for you is uncertainty, that you will never know what is true again and what is me. You are mine, Elijah. You will always be mine, and I will never let you go."
Chrysaor smiled and said, "Elijah, hello? Where did you go just there? I just said that you had yet to make good on your word." There were plenty of dark corners in that place, and while sitting there was nice, and they both looked good, the wine had the banshee thinking about everything underneath.
"No, I found a villa. It's nice, could use new paint, but it'll get there." They know Beezlebub doesn't care, not really, but they can't let someone else get the last word in. Pants on and laced up, Asmodeus thinks the worst thing that could actually happen would be stepping on one of Ba'al's bugs so getting to discarded socks and boots is a difficult dance. "You seem rather concerned about Lucifer showing up. One day I'm going to get you to have fun that isn't just ruining everyone else's."
"How nice for you, Asmodeus." The extent of how much Ba'al cared dripped alongside the archfiend's sarcasm. He did not want to think about the paint his brother implied he needed. "Only you would take my request that you cover your cock as though I was somehow worried about Lucifer," Ba'al said pointedly as a roach skittered up Asmodeus' arm, though now that his brother was only slightly more decent, the archfiend could stand to look at him. Even as he danced about the insects in some comical fashion.