Dumah ll Saturchella
Lurk all over and through you baby Until we reach your stream You'll be on my jockey team
trying on a metaphor

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@pestilencedumah
Dumah ll Saturchella
Lurk all over and through you baby Until we reach your stream You'll be on my jockey team
David Castaneda
Ew. Uriel's lips pursed in that apprehensive but contemplative way that he always got when Dumah started going on about viruses and bacteria. Creepy little buggers. Useful at times, but clearly an accident on Epimetheus' part. The seraphim didn't think of mass damage or violence these days. Retirement suited him. "Plan?" He raised a brow at Dumah. "The plan is to entertain ourselves watching these lycans compete for the conquest of Lupercal." The title of Alpha and the control of a pack too, he supposed. "I imagine some will make complete fools of themselves the way they're acting now." He smiled at that, looking back at the moving crowds. "It's almost like the days of humanity's infancy following Eden..." He sounded so wistful about it. "The savageness of it all... Logon is more sophisticated. I don't think he appreciates how funny this is."
"Yeah yeah, lycan royal rumble." Dumah rolled his eyes at the seraphim's remark, "But you know, the plan," Hell was empty and all the devils were here - blah blah blah, etc etc. This was Uriel, Conquest always had something lined up, that was his schtick. The brother with the stick up his ass that was just not quite as big as Michael's. "Lucifer, the other rejects. Ulthar." Their family had been gorged on, Adatiel had died for them, Azrael took the fuck off, and now it was basically just the two of them while old man donkey-dipshit Michael was fishing in the woods. "What are you planning on doing about them?"
@conquestofuriel location: Wolfchella notes: i just think uriel is neat
"You know what this party could use?" Dumah asked rhetorically as he sat down next to his cantankerous older brother. "Scabies. Full on outbreak." If only Pestilence had kept some then he could totally unleash these creatures in the urinals and watched them spread like wildfire. "What I love about scabies is that it usually takes two weeks for anyone to notice they have them," he pointed to the skin between his fingers, "they lay eggs under the skin and then once the eggs hatch the little breaks in the skin are obvious and irritated, but by then people have been getting their scabies everywhere. So cool." Dumah turned to lean his back against the picnic table, he'd had a point to this, but he'd lost it with his little story. "What's the plan, anyways?"
Her gaze analyzes his face for a moment, the gears moving in her head and she wonders if he mainly had sex with gay men before this. "Yours or mine?" She was a free spirit, whether it came to the streets or the sheets but she's never understood men's obsession with the back door when the front door was wide open. If he's asking to be fucked, it wouldn't be her first time donning a strap-on, in fact she had top energy and pegged men on the regular before they had met.
For just a moment Dumah's mouth hung open before he looked around, cheeks tinged a bit pink. "Yours, duh." He'd never- no one had- no, that wasn't happening. Sabina had been so quick to clarify, it definitely sounded like she had experience with both. Which was... Yeah... That was definitely something. "Have you..." Dumah tilted his head a bit, "to a guy before?" Now that the cambion had said it, Dumah was picturing it.
"I would lament the state of crime on Rome, but frankly, the lull is not likely to last," Sariel comments thoughtfully, eyes falling upon the ears upon Dumah's head and she presses her lips together to stop the grin from spreading. She has her own pair on her head, so laughing would be a moot point, but that doesn't mean she doesn't find it hilarious that Hayliel has become such an all-encompassing presence on their life that they cannot escape him. It's nice, to see his siblings and feel their presence so very keenly, after the slow destruction of the future that had not passed. "Actually yes. Apparently the end of the world made some people unbearably horny, who knew."
Dumah thought briefly of the End once again, Sabina's dead frame, brought down by the hands of his own plague and the illness that he'd pulled from his skin to fan out among the Gods. Hadn't done much, apparently, not enough at least. If there was a lesson to be learned then it was that Pestilence needed to work harder to work on something that would be more effective against divinity. The Blessed was still a soldier, and in his heart he was vengeful. Dumah had been a coward for too long, if Ulthar descended upon his family once more to finish his meal, then he would be ready this time and it was clear where he would stand. "Guess that means a baby boom is coming," Dumah joked playfully before he gestured with his chin towards his fallen sister. "what about you, fixing to get hitched? Maybe get two and a half kids out there." Sariel with a pair of nephilim running around was kind of an amusing thing to think about. That's why Dumah almost always pulled out, it had worked for him a lot of the time.
It was as if he came as a gift already, tanned skin on display with silver chain accents really did it for her -- a heat was flush in her core and the bedazzled cock-piece really was a treat. She had arrived in a classic little black dress with a lingerie top and a blazer, she was a Marshal after all and the wreath crown was the closest that she came to festive measures, always a grinch around Christmas.
Her hands found their place on the span of his hips, dancing along the silver chains until she travelled along to find purchase on the soft and exposed ass. An arched slender brow "Present is a dangerous word to say unless you have the goods to put out, luckily you're already dressed like a gift." Somehow through immense internal strength, her hands leave his plush ass to smooth one of the feathers that towered above them and provided a sanctuary among the ravers.
It was time to be a man, get bold and take that next step. It wasn't like he hadn't done this with someone before, but Dumah and Sabina had never discussed it. What it'd be like and how she would feel if they went to that place together. When he was talking to Uriel earlier he'd said a lot about his true feelings for Sabina, he hadn't said the words out loud yet, but if you loved someone you put it in their butt, right? "What if we..." Dumah cleared his throat as he whispered into her ear loud enough so that the cambion would hear him over the music. "did butt stuff."
The Ira should have instead been coined the Petulant, wrathful qualms melding his logical reasoning into fits of trivial ire. Eons seemed to separate them from the rebellion but the familiar feeling of the fallen generals stepping forth from the now destructed Inferno spoke volumes to wounds that had long since scarred over. "I fought with them from the very moment Lucifer refused Ulthar's decree," a vague retort, it was something Roth didn't need to think on in terms of alliances but there was a wonder what their presence could mean to the Blessed who were now ousted from the divine realm, too. Uriel, Michael, even Dumah now before them seemed to be swayed the longer they sat at the mercy of mortals. but it wasn't Roth's responsibility to convince Lucifer, Sathanas, nor the rest of them if they were worthy to be spared. Sariel and Atarniel were too busy humping the leg of the Senate and Hayliel was much like a Labrador, stationed happily in his position as Senator with nothing really behind the eyes. Alas, the Senate hardly mattered in the bigger picture when the Archfiends were keen on taking Elysia under their boot and whatever else they may have craved. "There are no siblings left for them to fight so I suppose what I must do is find out what their next course of action is to be," Roth did not fear approaching them, but he certainly had been avoiding it from the very moment he felt their presence become earth side.
"You were? I don't remember seeing you there." The edge of Dumah's lips turned up slightly at the remark; they weren't ever permitted to be children or to do much of anything beyond obey. In those early days of Eden, they were guardians, sentinels, and protectors against... At the time, Dumah hadn't known, but he came to understand that they weren't marked in the protectorate sense but were instead wardens over a cage. Cattle and meat were all people were; they still were as far as Dumah was concerned, except now he didn't have a choice but to live among them. Things hadn't turned out how he'd thought they would, but now, without any real threat left to his Grace, Dumah was free to make his choice and stand. Siding with the Greater Demons was an option; leaving was another one. Dumah didn't have much going for him here except for Sabina, just a bunch of siblings who primarily didn't like him. Then, there was a horde of masses that he couldn't stand. Somewhere near eight billion reasons to leave, but it wasn't like Dumah would have much success elsewhere. "I think indifference is still an option." Maybe that's where he'd settle, it wasn't like Ulthar was around to bark orders anymore, and a part of him was tired of fighting other people's battles for them.
"I'm just curious, that's all." They both had too much blood on their hands. Who didn't at this point? If this had to work, for Hayliel's sake, for the sake of the other Seraphim, Atarniel would have to behave, but she expected Dumah to do the same. Still, she was, surprisingly, happy to know a few Seraphim had survived, down here, while those among Ulthar fell victim to him. At least a few had survived. "I wonder what drove Father to this madness. With all of our imprisoned siblings released, it was probably only a matter of time until he'd succumb to some kind of frenzy." Which was to say they could've been the sole reason for that as well, but Atarniel couldn't be sure.
"You don't seem too worried." Dumah commented as he finished his drink, then tapped the bar to signify he was ready for another, "At least Uriel and I have a fighting chance." He'd have to watch Hayliel closely in the days ahead. "You though? They're going to skin you alive." A graceless seraphim who hadn't fallen alongside them but fought against them, who hadn't seen her siblings' cause worthy but was discovered to be a bad storyteller instead. "But you're slippery, I'm sure you'll figure something out."
There was a sense of intuition that the trouble was far from over, she never carried a sense of premonition, that was for the fairy folk but going through hell and back taught one that if everything looked perfect, there was most likely the most horrific sense of darkness that was brewing underneath. She didn't trust idyllic circumstances and unseen and unknown to her, the Archfiends moved upon the earth. She couldn't forget what she witnessed, even as she tried to drink and smoke it away, her memory projection powers held fast and refused to let her slip into oblivion.
There's something about the shyness of Pestilence at her door that makes a dirty devil's grin to blossom upon her lips. Feet up on the desk and she's never been a hard worker, more of a harder player but there was something about Emma's presence in her life that altered her forever and she had made a quiet vow to take up the work that the former Faiman and reaper had left behind, Emma had made the world a better place in her wake and she had no interest in letting her hard work be forgotten. Twirling a pencil in her hand, she speaks. "Now.. now we party." It was best to take your punches when you could lest misery come to visit again.
"Fuck yeah." Sabina's ability to roll with the punches had to be legendary; she was just such a badass. Vessel aside, Dumah was basically that kid on the playground who ate bugs, and Sabina was the cool rebel everyone was afraid of. Mortals and their flesh suits weren't ever that interesting to the seraphim for more than a night, but he was so, ultimately, irrevocably and undeniably into her. Dumah had grinned a bit as he'd spoken, affirmed by the cambion's words as he moved towards the desk. "You look like you've been working hard," and she had; truthfully, Dumah thought she'd be a shoo-in for senator, but instead, they'd gone with some old guy. Dumah could always kill him, and then Sabina would definitely be promoted. Old people died all the time. The seraphim lifted her legs to settle her feet in his lap as he sat on the corner of her desk.
"Right, that's probably why you're here," she concluded. The Fallen hadn't thought of that, but she'd always been on edge with Dumah around. For some reason this brother was even worse than those who'd been imprisoned for so long. A plague on this Earth, plucking graces, wings, off of his siblings like it's just a normal Tuesday. "Me? Screwing with Hayliel's position? Out of all siblings I'm closest with them, why would I?" the Fallen rolled her eyes. He might think little of her, but everybody knew she'd always been closest to Hayliel. She didn't take that Marshal position for granted and would do everything in her power to be of service. "We just have to work together, at times. There's no need to give me shit over that one thing I can't control," Atarniel raised one eyebrow, "what's the matter with you, anyway? We haven't seen each other in so long you've probably done something terrible in the meantime, right? Another plague?"
"Right, can't control." Whatever narrative suited Atarniel in the moment was surely the one that Dumah's sister was going to go with. Naturally he'd had his hands in several plagues, his body count was biblical and the absolute last thing he was was apologetic. Dumah still didn't think very highly of these meat suits called humans, but some were more worthwhile than others. "Atarniel, you said it yourself: stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours."
who? @pestilencedumah where? the forum, his office
"I know I am late, but congratulations on the promotion," Sariel smirks as she opens the door to Dumah's office and steps inside, eyeing her surroundings with far more curiosity than she would usually show. It is her first time actually entering the Senate's most esteemed halls, and she is drinking all she sees in with great enthusiasm. "Arrested anyone amusing yet?"
"Everyone's been on their best behaviour lately." Dumah sat there with the mandatory Mickey Mouse ears on his head that Hayliel had placed there. He wasn't about to take them off when he was on the job, people needed to know who the Blessed worked for. Dumah liked Hayliel, they'd fought together, and the Luxuria supported his desire to create virulent plagues that could exterminate populations. He really appreciated that. "So, no." Dumah said with a sigh as he turned in small circles in his chair. "Take any good photos of cheating spouses lately, detective?"
The Ira would have normally preferred to revel in a Blessed sibling coming to terms with their boot licking but it was awfully unbecoming on Dumah. The Pestilence who was often so enamored with tearing the world apart with each newly crafted illness or plague. Lucifer had fallen, Sathanas and the other generals swift to follow, and the Ira too had scorned the idea of kneeling for Ulthar's secondary creation. Where Dumah reveled in the hell he could unleash upon Ulthars creations was one of the few realms where the Ira could have once related to his Blessed sibling. "We all had our moments of blindly accepting what Ulthar vied for," it was something relatively kind from the Ira, not marred with it's usual indifference or blatant contempt. A chance at forgiveness considered Ulthar had literally eaten everyone else; it was sort of slim pickings where family was no concerned. "If I'm the example of the better of us all, I'm starting to become a little worried," a brow raised subtly, the smallest inflection of humor despite their own inner self-ridicule. Roth had adamantly fought on one side in the wretched war between siblings but he had reveled in the slaying of his siblings, cutting down those still tethered to the divine had been a twisted feat that wrought pride in the Ira once before. If he was the better of them in Dumah's eyes, the Ira found that to be an embarrassing sentiment for the seraphim.
"They're back now," Dumah could feel them, he was sure all of his siblings could feel them: their fallen brethren back from the pit. Admittedly, Dumah was slightly concerned, it wasn't as if there were many Blessed left now, nor was there a divine realm for him and the others to hide out in. "have you decided what you're going to do?" It was hard to discern where his own feelings lay when he hadn't really grasped what it was they could potentially be after. Dumah just didn't want to die, Hayliel and Atarniel had both fought against the archfiends once upon a time, as far as the senate went it seemed they all had something to worry about.
"Uh huh. Interesting." Hayliel looked at the wall that Dumah was referring to and had an entire slew of ideas pop into his head. Getting up from their seat, they looked at the wall and then back at their dear brother. As much as they never actually hung out before this, he was glad that they were now. Hayliel was sure that this was the only other blessed he liked. Other than...well, they didn't need to bring her up right now. The statue outside was enough of a reminder. If only they had captured all of her lovely eyes. "Exactly. Nothing but the best for me. I definitely deserve it." He patted Dumah's shoulder, sure that there would be a layer of grime on his hand afterwards, but he didn't care. "Killing people? If I pretend I didn't hear that, then you can do whatever you want. Plagues. Pestilence. Famine. Oh, maybe you can do something similar to last time. That was pretty entertaining."
Nobody ever complimented his plagues. "You really thought that was interesting?" Dumah's hand moved to scratch at the back of his head, that was nice of Hayliel to say. Felt like more than the Blessed deserved, all things considered, but for a moment Dumah was at a loss for words. "I could've done better to, I didn't think The Eye would be so quick with a vaccination, but the next virus I've been working on has mutated to a point where I think the death count-" right, don't talk about killing people, "where the something count is going to be much higher." Uriel had been pissed about it, he hadn't said anything about it. So typical. Hayliel though? Much more supportive.
Uriel took to following Dumah's gaze, his eyes finally landing on the incredibly gorgeous woman dancing shamelessly in the crowd. There were too many supernaturals to pick out her type of magic. However, it suddenly occurred to drunk!Uriel that all he wanted was for his brother to be happy and by some miracle she wasn't ugly or plague-ridden. Oh, it nearly brought a tear to his eye. "I'm so happy for you," he replied, lips pursed with emotion as he nodded earnestly.
Now Dumah teared up and it was tugging at every single heart string that Uriel had, many of which he didn't know existed inside him. "Noo," he breathed out. "Oh Gods above, how could I ever blame you, brother?" He shook his head, shame him. "All my life I tried to please him. I did everything I thought he wanted me to do and now, Dumah, I am stuck here trying to figure out who I truly am without him." Now he was tearing up too, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I could tell you never loved Father as I do but you were right not to, brother. I misplaced my loyalty." He reached out and squeezed his arm tight. "From now on we only count on each other."
"I know who you are." Dumah wept as he cradled Uriel's face in his hands, Uriel the brave, Uriel the leader, Uriel the one who loved to hear himself talk almost as much as Michael did. Tears spilled over the Blessed's cheeks before he pulled the other towards him and unceremoniously embraced him. "You're my brother." A cracked, broken sob heaved in his chest as he held the other firm against him. Back rising and falling as he cried against the family that he'd been pushing away for so long.
closed (event) starter for @pestilencedumah location: Hakan's palace note: marshal time
"There's no need to keep our guards up any longer, brother," she absentmindedly stirred her drink while looking around the crowd in front of them. There weren't many that truly interested her, which was a shame, because she tried to not focus on Dumah too much. Almost impossible. To stand next to him, after all these years of fighting and being at odds, they actually had to work out their differences and work together in order to be good Marshals to Hayliel. "I don't fuck with your business and you won't interfere with mine. Sounds like a plan, right?" She smirked, "Can I at least buy you a drink tonight?"
"It's an open bar." Dumah said dismissively, of his siblings Atarniel had to be the one that he liked the least. Uriel at least genuinely believed in Ulthar, Astaroth and Sariel had stood adamantly for what they believed in; Hayliel and Atarniel had both fought at the side of the Blessed when the others rebelled. Where the former fell in later years because he had dreams that Ulthar would not serve, the latter had desperately clung to her Grace until her lies could no longer be ignored. A deceiver and a manipulator playing the part of a victim, they might have been cut from similar cloths, but at least Dumah was honest about what a piece of shit he was. Atarniel wouldn't be getting Dumah's respect. "I don't work for you, but you do anything to screw with Hayliel's position or jeopardize our standing here in the city and I'll kill you myself."
"You didn't think that he'd eat us or you knew that much?" deadpanned, crassly but marred with that vexing indifference Roth was known to emulate. Personally, Roth was jaded at the amount of deaths he'd already seen where his fallen and Blessed siblings were concerned; Roth had cut down plenty Blessed himself, a true warrior commanded under the hand of their archfiend brother, Sathanas. They'd been invigorated by battle, slaying those weaker than he, but at the end of the day Roth had cut down those of his very own blood; and, apparently, Ulthar had eaten those who remained. "He was a bastard from the very moment he brought us forth into creation," that was perhaps the sibling way of letting Dumah down easy for sticking by Ulthar so long. "I don't think either choice was correct, but there's nothing to be done about what was," stated plainly, simply, arms crossed as they tried to absolve themselves of the apparent pity they now felt for the Pestilence now that his rose colored glasses had faded.
"I knew he was a cunt." Dumah clarified, "But I didn't think he'd kill us if we were willing to follow his orders." Pestilence had never had any need for something as trivial as integrity, he didn't mind getting down on his hands and knees to lick Ulthar's boot if it meant that he'd have stayed fed. Dumah hadn't wanted to fight his own family, and he hadn't wanted to be turned against them time and time again. In the grand scheme of things the Pestilence had still been young, they all were, Dumah couldn't have known how far reaching the consequences would be. Of the fallen that had rebelled, there were precious few left: Astaroth and Sariel, then the monarchy that had been imprisoned below. Hayliel and Atarniel had fought against their fellow fallen, had raised their swords against the likes of the Ira and his fellow rebels if only to change their mind when Ulthar's side no longer suited them. Where they had wanted freedom, Dumah hadn't known what he'd ever do with it, power was sufficient enough. "We were young." He said at last, "But you were right to resist, I'm not like Uriel," and he was not as good as his twin sister Adatiel. "I don't have the luxury of saying I believed in Ulthar at the time; I was just too much of a coward, eager to bow if it meant I'd keep my Grace." Dumah wouldn't condone what had become of the archfiends below, but Astaroth was not like them, "You were the better of us."