war never changes

The Prince Formerly Known As BelialCurrently: Planning the Apocalypse, Instigating Fights At Build-A-Bear, Being Fabulous

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quaiintrclle:

“Well, hell, darling, if that’s what you want, Alex and I can go on. He never liked you before, and recent developments have done nothing to improve his opinion. Can’t say I blame him, Horseman’s not a good look for you.” A glance and a quick smirk to the ghost hanging out very obviously at her side, as he laughed and said: Christ, Minette, I think you’ve gotten meaner. “Fifty years, babe,” she returned casually, “and a whole lot of anger.” Gaze settled on Belial again. “Speaking of, I cannot believe you fucking picked Elijah.”

Belial’s grin turned feral when he noticed exactly who was standing before him, and who was wrapped tight around her little finger. “Oh, so now you wish to talk about it?” Leaning in, he took a deep breath of the air surrounding Renee, her anger fueling him in a way only she seemed able, “I seem to remember a time where you told me no, darling. Don’t you?”

[prayhavoc-blog]

thyvillainy:

“Fucking move.” Heath snapped at the person yelling at War, barely glancing at them as they went through a brick wall at his gentlest touch. He turned to face the Horseman, his accent becoming sharper the longer he stared at War. “Did you hear what I said? Pestilence ate my coke dealer. At least send her to Las Vegas for a little bit.”

Belial let out a delighted little laugh as the human was easily tossed through the air to disappear in a scream and collapsing rubble. Belial wanted to get closer to take a better look, but Heath’s ire kept him rooted to the spot, and the amusement falling from Belial was palpable, “Can’t you just find another one? Can’t be too hard in this city, just throw a rock down an empty alleyway and they’ll scurry out like rats.”

[swordofcassiel-blog]

the showdown | cassiel & belial/war

[prayhavoc-blog]

swordofcassiel:

Standing in this close of proximity to a fully integrated Horseman, and between him and his Farrier, would be enough to rip any mortal in two. The ground was already littered with the bodies of humans who had inflicted such damage on themselves and others when Belial unleashed his force on them minutes prior–Cassiel, though, had been primed for this since the moment War’s energy started searching for a host.

He had tried to recruit them once before, and it had nearly killed Cassiel to resist. They felt none of that temptation now. Just the desire to kill him. He was either unafraid–foolishly–or hiding it to mask his weakness from them. Cassiel refused to play his game, taking their stance, facing him as a challenger ready for battle– “You talk too much.”

Once upon a time Belial would’ve gladly taken the warrior angel under his wing (so to speak), possibly even converting the creature into his Farrier. The power, and the anger seeping from them was palpable, but it was nothing compared the screams of terror and fear and rage surrounding him, fueling him. Cassiel may believe that they were in the right, and powerful enough to stand toe-to-toe with a Horseman, but there was nothing that could hurt him now. Never again.

Shrugging off the elaborate jacket, dotted with blood and the sweat of those surrounding him, and tossed it to the side, “Alright.” Next, the buttons of his shirt cuffs were undone, and rolled up to his elbows, and with a grin he widened his stance and gestured for the angel to come towards him, “Let’s do this, then.”

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risingorfalling:

“Seriously?” Elijah fixed Belial with a seething look, half-convinced the horseman was just trying to piss him off further. That was what Elijah was there for, after all. The fucker.  “Oh I don’t know, how about not getting my face slashed open next time someone comes at me with a knife and you’re too busy with an angel wielding a cup to help a guy out?” Being the only person on the team without any kind of advantage over the rest of humanity was getting old fast, especially after tonight. There was a reason Abaddon and Heath both came out unscathed and he was the one that didn’t. He let out an angry huff of breath, squinting at Belial for a moment. “You can’t, like, bleed out, can you?”

Belial’s grin only grew as Elijah’s ire did. He’d always enjoyed the young human’s fire, but as a soulless Hollywood actor, he was, and always would be, a fantastic vessel for Belial. He could understand the desire for a better way to protect himself, but with the way things were going, Elijah wouldn’t really need to be protected for much longer. Distracted from the vein of conversation, he looked down at the gaping wound in his chest and shrugged, “Not entirely sure, at this point.” Poking a finger into the hole it came away slick with blood as Belial turned a mischievous look Elijah’s way and popped the digit into his mouth, “Worried about me? I’m touched.”

[prayhavoc-blog]

risingorfalling:

The door made a satisfying thud as it closed behind him, Elijah’s gaze instantly snagging on the blood seeping from Belial’s chest. Good. It didn’t seem fair that just Eli should come out of the night – his night – with blood staining his clothes. Just like it wasn’t fair that Belial would likely recover perfectly, feeding off Elijah’s anger alone, while he was probably going to be left with a scar for the rest of his life. 

At least it wouldn’t be long, would it? 

He matched Belial’s smirk. “Yeah, always dreamed of ending the night with a knife in my face and a dented award. But thanks,” he snapped. The night had gone according to plan, more or less. Eli got his face on every television in the world. Team Sunshine and Rainbows was no closer to stopping them than they’d been before, and hopefully even more discouraged. But anger still clawed at the hollow in his chest. He stomped further into the room and set his bloodied trophy on a shelf before turning back to Belial. “I need a gun.”

Belial watched the human’s travels through his apartment, anger seeping out of every pore and doing wonders for the ache in Belial’s chest. The slash across Elijah’s face was a surprise, as was the dented award, but it wasn’t in him to care whether or not Elijah would recover fully from the injury. The world wouldn’t last long enough for it to matter. Pushing away from the window, he shifted his full attention on his farrier and raised a brow, “And what, exactly, do you hope to accomplish with a gun?”

[prayhavoc-blog]

risingorfalling:

@prayhavoc

His tux was smeared with blood and dust, bow-tie undone and askew around his neck. Blood had finally stopped dripping out of the angry gash that split his face in two, but his skin was stained with dried blood and the pain had yet to dissipate. His head was pounding from where that bitch headbutted him so hard he’d passed out. Somewhere, Adele and Isaiah were cursing him, assuming they were both still alive. Elijah desperately wanted to care whether or not that was true. And then there was the trophy he’d sold his soul for, scratched and dented and ruined. Eli was pissed, which was exactly how the Warmonger liked him. So he could think of no better place to be right now, than letting himself into the other’s apartment and slamming the door shut behind him. “What the fuck, dude?”

The night had gone according to plan, or rather, as close to the plan as Belial could make it when the band of Goody Two Shoes chose to make another attempt at ‘saving the world’. When would they realize there was no saving it, he wondered. It had been on it’s way to an inevitable end long before he’d been released onto the world, and none of them seemed to see what he did. Realize that it was over and had been for a very, very long time. The large gash in his chest continued to bleed sluggishly, but Belial didn’t pay it any mind. The angel’s attempt to put an end to him was rather lackluster, but he’d enjoyed watching the rage and bloodlust course through them, as brief as it was. Speaking of--he felt Elijah’s presence long before the human made his way into Belial’s apartment. Taking a deep breath, the smirk on his lips only grew as Elijah’s ire surrounded him and he could breath a touch more easily, despite the gaping wound in his chest. “I suppose congratulations are in order?”

[prayhavoc-blog]

“No, please. Don’t mind little ol’ me standing here. I love hearing  about how terrible I am. It just makes me all tingly inside.”

[insert gif here, because tumblr is being a dick and i’m tired of the waiting screen]

[swordofcassiel-blog]

the showdown | cassiel & belial/war

[prayhavoc-blog]

swordofcassiel:

[ closed to @prayhavoc ]

They dropped Zoe with precision and seconds later landed hard, wings propelling them to slam into the stage with a force that rattled the rafters. This was their role in the universe, in God’s plan, and the stakes had never been higher. Nonetheless, their grip on the Trepanum Blade was stronger than ever, the rush of its power surging through them, the grail as relieved as they were to be reunited.

War was running amok, boiling the blood of everyone around them, but Cassiel fought it off enough to stand upright before once-was-Belial and look him in the eye without throwing themself into the screaming crowd. They were glad Zoe was behind them, shielded by their wings, so she could not see them terrifyingly angelic, murder in their glare. Elijah had yelled, ruining the element of surprise, alerting Belial to their arrival–but he was still taken aback somewhat. Or so they hoped.

Belial was having the time of his very long life, or at least, for the near future. There was still so much havoc to wreak, one little awards show would never be enough to sate him. Not until every inch of the world itself was ripped asunder, and the folly that was all of their existence would be over. It was only a matter of time at this point, and yet--he turned to see Cassiel in all of their ‘avenging’ glory, with a shiny little grail held in their hand, “Well, don’t you look delightful. Were you wearing that armor under your dress this whole time?” Cassiel would have to be far older, and far more powerful if they ever hoped to get a rise out of the once-demon-turned-horseman. “Are you enjoying the show?”

[prayhavoc-blog]

Belial let out a delighted little laugh and opened his arms wide as he took in the chaos. “Your savior, has arrived.” Breathing deep it only too a step from here, to the floor below, and he and Elijah were immersed in the masses. Both a part of the violent chaos spreading through the crowd, and separated, immune, to it all based simply on whowhat he was. It was easy enough to see the Saints in the crowd, invited by the doe-eyed Grace, but there were enough Sinners to keep things interesting. Especially since Belial could see them all start to band together, looking far more confident than they had any right to be. Lips twisted into a feral grin, Belial shifted enough to see someone take a chance to break through the aura surrounding him, that grin only seemed to grow, “Well, well, well, come to test your mettle? Or pledge your undying fealty to me. Finally.”

[prayhavoc-blog]

gabviel:

“Know what this feels like.” Her words were barely audible before her fist closed and swung for the jawline of the lame horse, would-be man as her disdain for the mere presence of the other was worse than a bitter taste in the back of her throat. “Guess you do have an effect on others.”

Belial didn’t bother to dodge the angel’s swing, taking it with a grin, and lick of blood curling at the corner of his mouth, “The effect’s all on you, babe. But if you want to see what I can really do, all you have to do is ask.”

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swordofcassiel:

“I wouldn’t consider you not dead.” It wasn’t like Cassiel to be chatty, and saying more than five words in a conversation with a Horseman counted as chatty for them. They were trapped in a room with more Horsemen than any room needed–and plenty of opportunities for him to kill someone if they gave him a reason to. “Immortality is a breath away from the undead.”

“So is that what you are, Morrigan?” Belal was a parody of himself, dressed in the garb of the Holy Sister, a playful choice in light of soon to come events. The rest of the party-goers seemed to have taken the theme and run with it, delighting in the wake of their humanity, still clinging to the belief that the apocalypse wasn’t nigh. Humans might’ve delighted him once upon a time, but enough years of watching the many, and varied, ways they debased themselves for nothing more than a few coin had taken away the luster. Now, they were simply waiting for the slaughter, and Belial would be the one to help ring it in. “The living dead?”

[motherofabominations-blog1]

[AU] - Mr. and (Not ) Mrs.

[prayhavoc-blog]

motherofabominations:

“Not free water, he’d never willingly give that up.” Babylon rolled her eyes at the thought. “But there is a position that just opened up. Better pay, more vacation days… I didn’t think i’d have a shot at getting it but maybe with your help I can suck up just enough to get the promotion. If this works I could even take us on that cruise we’ve been talking about for years.”

“Better pay, vacation days, cruise, say more.” Belial was used to Babylon coming to him with the odd complaint from time to time, but being asked to be her fake husband certainly took the cake. “So, just how involved is this marriage going to have to be? I’m fairly certain if your employer had a cell in his brain he could look up your file and find that you are not, in fact, a happily married woman.”

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swordofcassiel:

A scowl was the most they could muster at the creature who was once Belial. Although, if they were honest, this Horseman maintained a significant portion of its host’s personality. Maybe they believed that just because they’d known Belial before, and he was no less irritating now–just more dangerous. And more calculating.

Cassiel was loathe to give away too much of their personal feelings. After all, they’d managed to get information from Kiara by standing their ground when she came close, and they’d had a decent enough back-and-forth with Belial when he was a Prince. He may be constantly turning up the dial on their anger, but he didn’t seem intent upon destroying them yet. Through not-quite-gritted teeth, they answered his question with a succint “Die, I’d assume.”

Belial let out a playful little laugh, and shook his head, “Since that’s impossible, what else?” Cassiel was certainly one of his favorite subjects to be around. There weren’t many people out there that had such a wealth of anger in them that Belial only had to breathe around them before that anger sparked to life.

[prayhavoc-blog]

Where: Danse Macabre Who: @swordofcassiel

“I’m loving the horns. Who’s your stylist? Wait, don’t tell me, I don’t want it to ruin the surprise.” Cassiel was certainly a sight to behold. The Warrior Angel an exciting figure in an outfit that flickered back to their past in a way most humans surrounding them wouldn’t even catch. But that was the fun of being an immortal being. Living longer, and seeing more, and finding ways to use it to his advantage. “What does a Horseman have to do to have the Morrigan join him for a dance?”

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gabviel:

It was only a momentary pause before he was posing with the bloody remains once more, highlighting what little he had to contribute to an already eventful world of death and destruction but it seemed it wanted a show. Or an audience. Both of which was disturbing on too many levels. “You’re really going to make me do this, aren’t you?”

Belial grinned as he took the picture, then sat back on his heels to upload the image, with the proper filter, to instagram, “Make you do what, brown eyes?”

[prayhavoc-blog]

davisadele:

“Can I speak to you for a moment, please?”

“My my my, you look absolutely stunning tonight, my dear.” He let his gaze search through the masses, “Where’s your other half?”

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whatroughbeast:

The Horseman’s grin gleamed white and vivid red, cool and triumphant, regardless (or because of) Satan’s gritted teeth and heaving chest, anger still smoldering even as he knew it would do nothing for him. He expected retaliation for the blow, but it wouldn’t come. War obviously didn’t need to hurt him to get what he wanted. It was frustrating enough to want to hit him again, but Satan pulled his eye away from the smear of scarlet over Belial’s mouth, turning his face to the ocean and glaring out at the water. No more – Renee’s voice echoed as firm and reasonable in his imagination as it had been in that dusty warehouse unfathomable lifetimes ago. “This is the last time I talk to you,” Satan said to the waves, “The next time you try, you get nothing, and nothing every other time you try again.” 

Belial licked away the blood from his lips, his smile as wicked as ever, and watched Satan turn away from him. Not that it would do any good. Nothing he did would ever keep War from getting what he wanted, and that, right now, was the rage-fueled energy coming off of Satan in waves. “Promises, promises.” Shifting to stand behind the demon, he used the few inches he had on the creature to lean in over his shoulder and whisper in his ear, “You might think silence will save you, but in the end..nothing will.” With that he turned to find another amusement for the evening, the anticipation and energy of Famine’s coming was palpable, and it was only a matter of time. Soon Famine, next Death, then--The End.