INVIDEREE ; a dependent roleplay blog for @diesirae-rp. as penned by mini.
No fall from grace, no halo dimmed. He was envy before envy had a name, the first shadow to cast upon the useless perfection of Heaven. If there was an Angel that questioned the Creator, it was the Leviathan's whisper in their ear —you want more, you crave more— an echo of hunger and desire. Jealosy in flesh.
He had never needed to fall, for he was the reason others did.
The first demon to ever exist and he takes pride on that. He is completely sure everything happened because of his existance and no one can convince him otherwise.
Arrogant. Petulant. Sarcastic. If you call him any of those he would Thank you if he knew how to say the words.
He is aware he is the outcast even among demons. Once he lamented on that, but then found the power on being the different one. He is proud he was never Holy.
If you are a Demon and he doesn't like you, he will treat you as if you still were Holy.
If you are an Angel then he hopes this time around you fall.
He is been having a hard time adjusting to Las Vegas or being "human" and questions why Las Vegas when it could have been a place less noisy. Las Vegas is how he imagines Heaven looks like more than Hell. Bright, noisy, full of idiots. Nonetheless, gambling was the only thing that reminded him of Home.
The city glared at him. Every light, every screen, every noise seemed designed to remind him he didn’t belong here. Leviathan sat at the bar, shoulders drawn tight beneath the low hum of mortal chatter. The air smelled of cheap perfume and electricity — he despised both.
They stirred their drink without looking at it, watching instead the way the crowd shimmered under neon light. Humanity had perfected envy; mortals wore it like a dress, smiling while they tore each other apart. It should have amused the demon. It didn’t.
They took a slow sip, expression somewhere between irritation and boredom. Their eyes flicked toward the door, as if measuring how long they could stand to stay in paradise.
When another presence slipped into their awareness. Something ancient, familiar. Didn’t bother to turn, just a faint twitch of his jaw, the smallest exhale of annoyance. “Hate it here?” The Hellmouth muttered, voice low and edged with disdain. “Even Hell knew how to keep the lights dim.”
He had not wanted to come, but curiosity was his capital sin.
Arriving late, as if testing whether time itself would dare begin without him. The air thickened to his coming, the invisible weight that follows old power wearing new flesh.
The Leviathan didn’t smile as he crossed Eden's front door. He never did when surrounded by mortals pretending to be magnificent and Las Vegas seemed to be full of fools. They laughed too loud, shimmered too brightly.
He wore black velvet and a crisp white collar framing a throat that had once uttered darker vows. The Demon stood apart, glass in hand, fighting the burning need to leave the place before another tacky neon light flicked in front of him until he realized he was not the only unholy being in the place, and even worst, the holy arrived too.