Kat- no, Siege? No… Whatever this is.. Had to wrack their brains on what was going on. So many thoughts raced from either side, clashing like a brutal battle
Kalei walked up to the door on their crutch, Fia standing just behind them. Alright, Kalei. Focus. All they had to do was knock on the door. Please, god, don’t let knocking be the wrong choice here.
They raised their fist and knocked. “Hey, Kat!” Kalei called calmly. As if nothing was wrong, and this was just another day. “I wanted to check in on you. You’ve seemed a bit under the weather. Can you let Fia and I in?”
It made them feel terrible to do, but they made sure to mention Fia’s name. Kat- Kaige held absolutely no affection for Kalei (which was fine in their book), but it had a perverted fascination with Fia. At the very least, it might let them in the house if Fia went along.
Fia fidgeted. A lot more than usual, especially with her sewing box. She leaned off to the side behind Kalei, wondering if Kaige could see her. She even waved a little, though shyly.
“We uh… sorry we were busy last night, something came up. How are you feeling?” she called out. Thankfully she’d gotten the bloodstains out of the jacket from last night, so it really didn’t look like there’s anything out of the ordinary with her.
Twitch.
“Fia’s there?”
That wasn't Kat. That wasn't- what was that? It kind of looked like her, but… Her eyes were glazed over. Her hair floated?? Oddly enough she also had a halo, three diamonds in the center.
“... Feel free to come in, then….” The smile in this.. thing’s voice was not comforting.
…that was not Kat. Kalei smiled, despite feeling as though they would much rather leave. Kat needed them here. She wanted them here. Both of them. “Yes, she’s here with me. We came together.”
This was bad. Could Kalei trust these two alone, if the need arose? They wouldn’t want to, that’s for sure, but what if this was dangerous? They walked in the house much more slowly than they entered, arm quivering from exertion.
Do they… acknowledge things? Probably. They knew Kalei could tell. “That’s a new style,” they said mildly. “Um… got a new hairspray?”
Fia looked around the room, not focusing on Not Kat. She couldn’t. She really couldn’t look, because if she looked, then she would only remember that night.
What if it was That Night all over again? What if she would have to do the unspeakable to help Kat? Fia wasn’t sure she could stomach that. Did it help that the halo was absolutely begging to be noticed? No. In fact it made things worse.
What should she say? What could she say? Fia stayed silent behind Kalei, eyes trained on a corner on the floor.
“Funny. No, it's just… Hm. Like that. Can't change it…” Fluffing up their odd zero gravity hair, they finally turned towards their beloved friends. “So nice to see you two.. truly, it is. Tell me, how's things?” They giggled, and… Were floating around the two?
“I think you know how things are,” Kalei said. Don’t think about it. Don’t try to understand it. Just… watch. That’s how you handle situations like these, Kalei had learned. You don’t try to put logic to it, you just go with what you know only from what you’ve seen.
Kat did… something to end up entangled with Siege again. Made a deal, most likely? They seem joined more intricately than the first time. Kat is not gone. She is still able to understand what Kalei and Kat are saying, and she is trying to communicate. Kat is in pain. Siege is the one in primary control.
…Siege has something to be afraid of. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have cared if Kalei and Fia came over. This means that there’s something they can do. “Okay. Let’s be honest. Siege, what did you do?”
Fia briefly shrunk away from Not Kat, but quickly regained proper posture. No, now’s not the time to be scared. Sure, this was bad. Like, really bad. When has floating hair, a halo, and just floating in general been good for someone who’s supposed to be perfectly normal?
“...” she really wouldn’t confront Siege like this. But you know, it’s probably fine, right? They wouldn’t hurt her, right? Right? Surely, surely not. They said so. But how much of their words could Fia trust? All of them, none at all, or something in between?
“...Kat?” she tentatively said, quietly. There was a good chance that this choice would be met with punishment, or indifference. But she had to try and make sure that Kat was in there somewhere still.
A fake, painful grin that was previously plastered on their face had died. “.. Ah. U-um. Well.” They clearly wanted to answer Kalei first, floating right up to them and forcing a smile back onto their face, despite protest.
“All I did was offer a deal. One that she AGREED TO, before I continue. I offered protection in return for.. mm. Well, I won't explain my side, that's priv- erk- eugh-..” They grasped onto their head. Something was intervening. “It wanted protection in return. From its boss. Some weird shiiAUUGH! OH! OW, OW, I'M SORRY I'M SORRY! PLEase forgive the intrusion. What an embarrassing moment.”
She was in pain. Siege would never apologize like that. Every bone in Kalei’s body wanted to fuss over Kat like they would have before, but now that it wasn’t safe? That… was probably even more horrific than the halo. Kat wasn’t meant to be somebody Kalei was afraid of.
It had just censored her. What a horrifying thought, one that made Kalei’s shoulders tense and their mouth pull into a frown. That had been Kat, their Kat speaking, and it hurt her until she went quiet. “Leave Kat alone,” Kalei hissed. “I don’t know what deals you’re cutting, but-” Calm down, Kalei! They can’t overreact, it’s too risky. “...I don’t think hurting your vessel is a good idea. At all.”
The word ‘vessel’ tasted like ashes in their mouth.
Fia had to force herself to focus on Not Kat. Siege, to be clear. Well… that’s not right either. This is neither Siege nor Kat. What did they call themselves? Kaige? ‘Sounds awfully like cage… which must be how it feels for Kat right now,’ Fia realised painfully.
“I don’t think she agreed to... Whatever this is.” she said coldly, stepping forward. “Haven’t you caused enough pain already?” her brown eyes narrowed.
“Like Kalei said. Leave. Kat. Alone.” every word was said through gritted teeth, harsh and stony.
“Can't even humor me? A shame, truly, that you don't get to choose that!” They harshly cackled at the duo, doubling backwards midair and clasping their stomach. “Ah.. It's so sad. This time you really WON'T see her for a long time! HAHA!” They were lying. But if they were still both in control to an extent, how much of these statements was Siege, and how much was…
“Kaige is the name, and tricking you folks was the game. Ugh! Always fooling my system, you two… Tsk, tsk. Such misdeeds must be paid tenfold! Tell me, do you have any… Papers, on you?” They condescendingly glanced at the two of them. “I'm curious.”
Papers? Misdeeds? Just what was going on, exactly? “You need to be straight with us,” Kalei said. “You aren’t perfectly in control here. You aren’t infallible. Why the hell do you need papers, and what the hell are you going to do in her body?”
Kalei’s bravado would have more, well, bravado if they weren’t shaking and breathing so hard it was about to knock them over. One hand was holding a crutch, the other was hovering behind them, ready to push or pull Fia if need be. She needed to be protected. She was their best friend, the kindest person they knew…
And their only bargaining chip. What a terrible thing to think, but there was a good chance Fia was currently the only reason they were still alive.
Aaaaand there it was. Kaige. This new person from the weird things happening, created from a supposed merge between Kat and Siege. This was going to be difficult… Fia had no idea what Kaige was like, at all. At least she could roughly predict what Siege and Kat would say, but Kaige? This brand new variable? No chance.
“...No.” she tilted her head, wondering why they would ask such an odd question. Her eyes flicked around the room, looking for exit points once again. They didn’t lock the door behind them, so that would be the best route of escape if things go south. She put a hand on Kalei’s shoulder, giving them a look. It was better to approach this calmly. If this entity got mad, who knows what could happen.
Honestly, Fia was afraid. Misdeeds, paid tenfold? What, was this new entity going to take out its displeasure on them? Fia honestly hoped not. She wanted to live. Or at least not be in pain. Wasn’t the last three weeks enough suffering? Gosh, they just can’t catch a break…
Well. Time to do some more improvising and play along.
“THANK GOD… I mean, er, ha! Good. Great, even! I'm so glad. guh- grk- TAKE THIS. TAKE IT TAKE IT TAKE IT.” They held out their arm hurriedly and stuck a piece of paper into Fia’s arms. Coincidental first choice, they swore. After the paper had been successfully received, their arm flinched back, almost as if it was in pain. “Really gotta stop acting up! Hee hee. Ha ha. HA- AUGH- WOULD YOU QUIT IT- get the HELL out of here and find the other half before it's too late. It tore this before I could get it to forget about the damn sheet, but if you hurry– OWWWW!!!! IT HURTS OW OW OW STOP SIEGE FU– Ffff. hhgrh” They slumped down, hanging limply midair, and hair curling in with dissatisfaction. “sorry. that’s all I can- oh dear god- that's all I can say…”
Paper. Find the other half. Get out of here. Leave. Leave.
Kalei wished they were braver. They weren’t. They turned and started to shove Fia towards the door, rushing to keep themselves from tripping their own leg with their crutch. “Go!” Kalei shouted.
They’d ask Fia for that paper and find the other half. Fia and Kalei could save Kat, and then Kat could confess her love, and Fia would get to experience normal things like birthday cakes and foggy nights.
Why wasn’t she running?! “Fia, you need to leave,” Kalei begged.
Fia barely had time to process what was happening before she realised: she can’t leave. She must not leave, because if she leaves Kaige, or Siege, or whoever that’s not Kat alone with Kalei and something happens, she could never live with herself. So she turned right back around on her heels and shoved the paper in Kalei’s hand, turning around and shoving Kalei out the door instead.
“No, Kalei. Don’t you see? They’re less likely to hurt me. They actually care about me, to some degree. Now get out, Kalei, and find that other half!” she whisper-shouted. “I can deal with them, alright? I’ve got this.” she forced a smile. “You just… find that other piece. I’ll hold them here.” She turned back to look at Kaige, or whoever’s in control, hoping they won’t come after them.
Whether whatever noises were coming out of them were laughing or crying, their unnaturally longer than usual hair was covering their face from the hunch they were in. “Ah… Ahh. Haha.” They twitch again, and bones crack under their quick movements back upwards and higher up. “Where do you think you're going? Hmm??” They sound hysterical. Their voice - a mix of Kat’s and a slightly deeper one with weirdly toned speech - was rough around the edges from the screams of pain.
They almost screamed at her. For just a second, the crazed look in Kalei’s eyes said they were about to lose it. They looked between Fia, Kat, the paper, their puke still marinating in the corner from last night, the halo and the hair, Fia’s shackles making a slight bump on the bottom of her sleeves, and they…
Kalei was pinned. Leaving behind Fia was a terrible thing to do. She was less likely to be physically hurt, yes, but leaving her alone with this while Kalei went on a wild goose chase? Risky, risky, risky. Who knew if Siege could do this to others, or what it might say to get Fia in a state of distress.
They couldn’t leave her. It wouldn’t be in their right state of mind to leave her, but-
They were trying to sprint away. Things had gotten very out of control, very quickly. Limbs tripping over each other, a crutch smacking shins and crushing toes on its way out. Kaige was laughing, a loud, piercing sound that was broken up at times by the most mournful sob Kalei had ever heard.
It was hard to say what exactly caused this chain of events. Kalei didn’t get to know that part. What they did know, however-
Was that the halo unfolded like origami.
Was that the points aimed directly at their heads.
Was that Fia shoved Kalei out of the way, but not before they took a spike to the gut and a spike to the skull.
Kalei crashed onto the ground, moaning in pain. One hand went to cup their eye, which had a brilliant white shard sticking out of it. Blood seeped between their fingers, and every breath or tear made the wound sting even worse. They curled around the wound in their stomach, feeling it bury itself deeper and deeper inside.
Fia fell to her knees next to Kalei, panicking. She tried to stop the blood at first, pressing down on their stomach and apologizing when that made them scream louder. When she ducked her head to cry, Kalei could see the diamond wedged three inches deep into Fia’s own skull.
Kalei died ten minutes later. They died limp and cold, eyes still fixated on Fia and mouth still whispering empty reassurances that they could fix this.
Fia never died. Fia remained trapped in that room with the bored, bored god, and the girl who had only ever been trying to save people.
-but it was going to be so much worse if they didn’t.
Gritting their teeth, Kalei nodded. “If it gets out of hand, you call me. I don’t care how much danger you think it’ll put me in. I’m leaving you here alone, so you better-”
No time to finish the threat. Swinging the crutch behind them, Kalei moved out of the house as quickly as they could, ignoring the sing-songy voice behind them.
Fia shut the door behind Kalei and turned around to face Kaige, a weak smile on her face with her back pressed against the door. Her hand fumbled to lock it, even though it could be easily unlocked later and she knew full well that it would block off the easiest exit.
But if she was here, then that means they couldn’t get to Kalei either. That was enough for Fia.
“S-sorry! Um, Kalei forgot they had some… business to attend to.” she brushed a strand of brown hair that had fallen in front of her eyes behind her ear. She needed to stop lying. It would probably get her nowhere, and make the situation turn for the worse.
Right. Time to play nice. “Umm… you alright?” her voice hitched at the end, too high, too sharp. Fear was barely masked, and cold sweat dripped down her back. Gosh, she was going to die here tonight if she didn’t say the right things, was she?
A violent tilt of their head caused a guttural crack and a tear to fall. “I am fine! As per usual.” Their voice was wavering. They.. She didn't want this. “Seems it's just us two, though! I have so many questions about you…” They float listlessly near Fia, accidentally cornering her.
Kalei read while they walked. It was a mess, everything seemed only tangents related, but it was the best lead they had.
…seriously?
Okay. It was far past the time to be picky. They pulled out their phone and opened tumblr, ignoring their exploding feed to instead pull up the one blog that they never expected to visit again. Press the ask button.
《While you are doing a generator, you notice your shadow look a bit... wrong...》
《It seems to have an eye-like shape on its right side.》
《This feels... wrong.》
- @spectre-oftheforsaken
[He almost doesn't notice it, so honed in on connecting the wires, but one small glance is all it takes. A chill goes down his spine, from no apparent source. He squints at the eye.]
Jamestown was a bust. Community of blockheads with no sense of vision.
Arrived in village of Brandenburg, est. pop. 300. Hoped to find it more amenable to my wares, but so far the townsfolk seem guarded and, at times, hostile. Little wonder - bad timing. It seems a murder took place in the early hours, a young boy. A dreadful sight, to be sure, but nothing in the town's response to the tragedy adds up to sense.
In fact, I worry I've traveled into a den of lunatics.
To wit:
Several other strangers to town arrived with me today. A shipwright sorely lacking in a sense of personal skills, a wildman trapper with a face like the backside of an ass, and Mr. Fancypants the Hessian soldier-for-hire who, from what I gathered eavesdropping, is here to deliver a package to the richest family in town. None of his story makes sense to me, but I haven't had a chance to press him for details.
Despite the boy's death being a spectacle drawing most of the town to see, his family in hysterics, the body was cleared away most unceremoniously and the task of burial fell to OUR hands. What sort of family buries a child in unconsecrated ground, with no funeral, and trusts the deed to a group of strangers? Once more, none of this makes any sense. The only local to aid us in this was a simple farm boy.
Strange things have been happening to my senses since arrival, as well. Apparitions of a most unpleasant nature, whispers in the tavern from no clear origin. A bible burst to flames in my hand and restored itself when I tried to show the evidence. At first, I worried some ergot had poisoned the ale, but I fear it's much worse than that -- for the others have seen the same things. Five men may all be driven to hallucinate at once, but not the *same* ghastly visions.
Most damning of all, I encountered a blacksmith who insisted that a demon arrived this very morning to their small town. When pressed for details, he was a most unhelpful and suspicious source, but I am convinced he was dead serious in his assertion.
One of my companions (to use the term generously) encountered a woman in the woods and though he prattled on quite nonsensically, one thing was evident: this murder is not the only instance of such an evil in this town's history, whatever the other locals may claim.
I made just one pleasant acquaintance in an otherwise very long and exhausting day, although I worry his friendship may not ingratiate me with the townsfolk. No matter. I don't think I want to stay long enough to make further friends.
The blacksmith warned against trying to pass the woods at night, so I am stuck here at least until morning light. My plan is to leave at dawn and put this cursed place and its devilry behind me.
Pent (@sssardonian-ssserpent) invites Ruddy (hey there) over to his airship in an attempt to impress him. It goes well, then it goes poorly, then it goes well, and then they nearly die.
--
“And I want none of you to try and interrupt me with anything while our guesssst is here! Do you hear me? NONE of you!”
“But Boss, who’s the guest gonna be! I can’t think of anyone who’s ever been a guest here!”
“You were made 5 bloody minutessss ago, of courssssse you can’t! And I gave you lot an order! Now go tell the rest of the batchessss in the other levels of the base, you hear me! Now! On the double!”
“Yes, Boss!…Uh, tell them what?”
“Oh for fuck-Tell them to not interrupt me with anything!”
“Anything?”
“Any-…Well no, if it’sss important, like the main lava valve startssss to burst or the computer is starting to get hungry again, tell me that, but if it’s something idiotic than keep your trapsss SHUT! Now get out of my ssssight!”
“Yes, Boss!”
Pentious finally heaves out a heavy sigh as the collection of eggs finally start to march out of sight, moving a hand up to pinch the bridge of his snout with a groan, shaking his head ever so slightly. “Bloody headaches, every last one of them..” He then moves to take a deep breath, moving to idly brush down the spiffy black suit he was wearing, not the same from his pinstripe suit but arguably just as fancy, slim and sleek, a dark black with bright silver fabric sewn into the sleeves, the lips of the coat, and the back, meant to resemble twisting and turning vines that curl into soft swirling points. “Ok, that should take care of my minions, what else do I need to do..” His tail thumps against the floor and his eyes narrow, beginning to pace across the floor. “I checked the computer, I recalled all my scout ships, I ran checks on the firewalls and magma pressure, I cleaned every inch of my workshop, organized the library, fixed my ship from all the sssscratches it got earlier the week, I prepared the afternoon coffee..” He pauses to glance toward the two giant plastic cups of freshly iced coffee that he bought from the local cafe, along with two muffins and two fresh sandwiches. “…I bought the afternoon coffee..”
He trails off, tail lashing, idly biting at the edge of his claw, pensive, his scales itching with the idea that somehow he had forgotten something but unsure what. His hood rattled, his shoulders tensing, and he presses his claws to his temples. “Come on, dammit, think, think…”
The bone vibrating hum of Ruddy's portal cut off as the snake traveled through his rip in realities, a well polished cane clutched in one hand, the other holding his phone as he checked the address he'd been given. North side, not far from where he'd landed, if his calculations were correct. Speaking of.. He raised his head, taking in his surroundings with a frown. This place was, to put it delicately, a shithole. Even the worst parts of London never looked this run down, though they'd smelled a lot worse. Was his alternate really in such dire straits that he was forced to live and receive guests here?
Something like guilt mixed with concern squeezed at Ruddy's throat, his mind flashing back to how he'd scolded Pent for not eating enough, and then how Pent had inhaled his dinner at the ball. If this was why, he'd been a damn insensitive fool this whole time and his alternate had just been too proud to explain.. He shakes his head. No. Maybe he'd just appeared in a bad area, and Pent lived somewhere better than the ruins around him. Nobody would want this territory, it was a good area to lay low.
It's feeble encouragement, and by the time he actually arrives at the warehouse he'd been directed to, it's deflated completely. This place was a dump. It was standing, at least, but that was about all he could say for it. Rust and weeds, this place looked abandoned. Was he meant to knock on those tetanus hazards called doors with his white gloves? Good god, they'd probably crumble into dust. He settles for striking his cane on the ground, the loud ring of metal on concrete the best he could do without a doorbell.
There was a moment of brief silence after the ringing of his attempted knock faded away and nothing else, a silence that stretched out longer and longer with every passing second before it was finally broken by the sound of something, loud, rumbling, emanating from inside the warehouse. It was enough to make the ground shake, enough to make the window panes and what little dirt-ridden glass still in said panes rattle and wobble like they were in danger of falling off, and it wasn’t until the rusted, creaking hinges of the warehouse doors slowly swung outwards and open that Ruddy finally caught a glimpse of what was causing such heavy shaking to begin with. In the inside of the warehouse, the floors caked with dirt, rust, and stains of what must’ve been god only knew, the metal skeletons of what must’ve been machines tucked into the corners or laid strewn about in broken pieces, was a massive hole in the floor, spawned by a large section of said floor seamlessly split into two and pulled back to make a proper opening, a structure now sitting in the middle of the abandoned shell of the building, appearing to be a ring of a walkway with railings around it to prevent ones from falling through the massive gap in the center, said gap holding what seems to be a massive magnet, curved into the shape of a giant sphere, suspended by crackling bolts of electric charges, to keep it in place and prevent it from being dragged down by gravity.
There was a brief ping from Ruddy’s phone, and a message from Pent popped up on his screen.
TEXT: Ssssent the elevator up for you.
The display was impressive, but Ruddy was more relieved than anything. His alternate was hiding underground. That meant he wasn't living in this crappy warehouse, it was a cover. He breathes out a sigh, shoulders untensing as he slithers forward and into the elevator, dodging machinery parts and keeping his eyes down so he didn't get blinded by the arcing electricity. It took a little work to fit all of himself into the elevator's railing, but once he was in he shot Pent a message in return.
TEXT: Much appreciated. Very clever of you to do all this.
There was no response from Pent via text this time, merely the sound of a few heavy clicks and whirring before the elevator slowly begins to drop down. But rather than the elevator simply moving at a slow, steady drop, the elevator instead begins to spin, the ball in the center starting to shift as it begins to move, rolling within the circular circumference of the gap it was placed in, the elevator itself slowly spinning itself around the ball in large, slow, sweeping circles that makes Ruddy feel less like he’s falling down a shaft and more twirling his way down. The floor panels above Ruddy’s head begin to slowly slide back together again, closing itself, resealing the illusion that had managed to so cleverly fool him, and it wasn’t long before the shaft eventually reached it’s end, a long railway and control panel lining the floor leading to the proper resting place for the ring, the spinning of both the ball and the elevator coming to a complete stop with a brief crackle of electric discharge sliding up the frame of the magnet and a slight hiss of cogs and gears as they slowly lose the energy to keep themselves going.
It was then that Ruddy finally saw Pent standing there, waiting with a polite, if not large grin, a hovering platform holding what looks to be two large coffee cups and a bag of what must’ve been food to go along with it, branded with a logo of some local cafe on it waiting right next to him. Pent moves to offer a soft bow toward the man, a hand on his chest as he does so. “I do hope the exact addressss wasn’t too hard to find, my good man. I can understand if you may have been expecting ssssomething a bit more opulent like a mansion or at the very leassst, something that was above ground.”
The railing was a bit low for Ruddy to hold onto, so he's braced on his cane when he finally sees Pent, eyes flicking to the bag and coffees before he lifts himself back to his proper posture. So they were going to have an afternoon coffee? Lovely, he'd skipped tea for this visit.
"There was no trouble finding the address, though I must say the area you've claimed as your own did raise concerns at first. However, it's clear they were unfounded, you seem to be doing just fine with a less traditional lair." He smiles, slithering forward to offer his hand for a shake. "Pleasure to see you again, Pent, and you're looking as fashionable as ever. The silver is a nice touch."
“Heheh. Why, thank you. You look quite lovely as well.” Pent moves to take Ruddy’s hand in his own, giving it a more firm shake than he had the first time they properly met, thankfully not managing to start blushing again as he feels that firm hand all but engulf his own in the greeting. He can’t help but narrow his eyes a little, unable to resist teasing. “Thought the ssssuit might be a better call than the dresss considering lasssst time, heheh.” He moves to let go of his hand, moving to pick up one of the iced coffees, appearing to be that of a thick milkshake-like brew covered with whipped cream and caramel, and moving to hand it toward Ruddy. “I wasss admittedly going to try and brew coffee before you arrived, rather than sssimply buy any, but I ah…lossst track of time. I hope you’ll enjoy the tassste regardless, however; the cafe I went to is one of my favorites, one that hasss authentic coffee beanssss in their recipes.”
Ruddy snorts at the good natured tease, eyes rolling dramatically. One mistake! He'd made one mistake and it was going to haunt him for the rest of his afterlife! Unbelievable. But Pent continues, so he doesn't interrupt to protest this attack on his character. "The coffee will be delicious either way, Pent. It's always better shared with a friend, after all." He smiles, trying to head off any lingering concerns as he accepts the drink in his much larger hand. "Though this does seem very different from anything I've tried before." What, caramel and whipped cream? This looked tooth achingly sweet.
“I, uh…didn’t quite know what you would’ve preferred in terms of what kind of coffee you wanted when I went to buy it. Sssince you’re more of a tea drinker and all.” A bit more of a sheepish grin this time as he moves to pick up his own cup, unwrapping the straw to plunge it into the cream and down into the drink. “Ssso I went with what I usually go with. Caramel frappe with toffee bitssss and whole milk. I also bought usss both muffins and ssssandwiches to eat along with it. Hope you don’t mind that I chossse blueberry. The ssssandwiches are grilled chicken.”
"I appreciate you purchasing an afternoon meal, you didn't have to go out of your way like this for my sake." The hand not holding his coffee comes down, landing on his smaller alternate's shoulder to give him a comforting pat. He didn't know what a frappe was, but he was going to find out today, it seemed, with an anxious alternate as witness. Plucking up his own straw, he slides it into his drink and takes a cautious sip, braced for the worst.
Oh, yeah, that was sweet. Not as overwhelming as he'd expected, but this felt like a dessert. He hums, pulling back to lick his lips and eye the beverage. "Not bad. I usually take my coffee black, or with a single cube of sugar, but this isn't unpleasant."
Pent, not expecting the pat, seems to briefly pause, blinking for a moment, before he moves to nod again, clearing his throat, the hand not holding his drink moving to idly tug and adjust his bow tie. “Ah, yes, well…I usually prefer the ssssweeter drinks myself. I, ah, usually had to knock back my coffee completely bitter as a child when I got up in the morning or when I was an adult, as sugar was usually out of my pay grade, ssso I suppose I sssimply try and indulge myself as much as I can with sssweets and sugar nowadays.” He moves to take a sip of his own coffee at that, idly moving to place it back down onto the hovering table after he’s finished. “If you want, I can give you a tour of the place to sssstart off your visit? I wouldn’t say it’s masssive, but it’s quite the large place. A mix of a home and more of a bassse of operations, as it were.”
Ruddy nods, placing his own drink down as well in favor of taking his cane back in hand. "Oh yes, I'm curious to see what you've done with the place. I never built a true underground lair in my own universe, only docks for my airships. Hardly a place I'd want to set up in the long term. How do you power all of this with no access to the power grid? Or do you siphon power through proxy buildings?"
“Ah, well, that’sss the thing.” Pent moves to turn around, giving a slight wave of the hand to indicate that he wanted Ruddy to start following, starting to slither down the corridor, the hovering table with their food following suit alongside him as he does so. “Vox, I’m afraid as I’ve mentioned before, knowsss quite well of the threat I can pose, should he let me. He may be a capitalistic hedonissst that has more money in his pocket than any kind of brain in that box of wiresss and boltsss he calls a head, but he also tendsss to be…aggressively vigilant, shall we say, when it comes to his companiesss and his enterprise.” He crosses his arms behind his back, a bit of a malicious gleam starting to enter Pent’s eyes. “Any time I’ve tried to connect anything to the main power grid in the passst, he tries to upload himself into it to take control of it, or to dessstroy it from within. Ssso, as time passed, I found I couldn’t risk connecting to anything involving proper power sourcesss within the city. Sssso…I found another path instead.”
Suddenly the corridor Pent is leading him through opens up into a vast, massive chamber, the middle of which appears to be a single structure, a long pipe-like structure, clad in metal and glowing electronic lines connected from the floor to the ceiling, the balcony of the corridor opening up into a circular ring surrounding the pipe, said ring holding three different doorways. The lights emanating from the pipe move like a river, sliding upwards in bright orange glows that keep slowly creeping up, up, up, until they slip past the threshold of the ceiling and disappear from sight. The heat emanating from the room alone was massive, thick heavy waves of heat that seemed to make the very air shudder and distort, and Pent moves to gesture toward the glowing pipe with a grin growing upon his lips. “..Thisss…is the main source of power for my base. A geothermal vent, drawing in magma from the liquid rock in a cavern below to pump through the rest of my home. Think of it as like a beating heart. A circulation system. The lava circles through the pipes, it begins to cool, and then is promptly funneled back down into the boiling rock again to be reheated and pulled back up again.” He pauses to chuckle, hands folding behind his back. “Vox can’t quite go and sssslither his way into that, now can he?”
Ruddy stays quiet as Pent explains his struggles, nodding along as he's lead down the corridor. It was a tricky situation, to be sure. Just about everything took electricity these days, and if Vox really was as vigilant here as he sounded, it was likely that even the subtlest attempts to siphon power would get that damned flat faced fool launching over to put a stop to it. He could respect the vigilance, if it were anyone but Vox. But those thoughts are set aside as the pair enter into the chamber, the glow distracting Ruddy from his thoughts.
Oh, now this was different. But it was damn clever. They were in Hell, of course there was magma just under the surface. He whistles under his breath, turning his head this way and that to take it all in. The idea of Vox trying to seize this though.. "Not if he valued his polished plastic casing he couldn't. This must have been a nightmare to set up, how long did this take you?"
“Hmm. Hard to say. I distinctly remember living around these damn slums before I went and properly got the idea to dig straight down and install a new home there. Vox had attacked my old residence so much that I just never found any use in properly living there anymore so I let the thing rot. I remember striking the magma vein not soon after, watched it melt the drill I had been using to craft a tunnel, and it was then that I got the idea to ussse that as a means of getting around my issue with the power sssupply.” Pent moves to idly leant on the railing of the balcony, looking out over the pulsing glow of the vent as it did it’s work, hood twitching but not quite opening fully. “Mussst’ve taken about…20 yearsss? 15? At thisss point, a lot of the damn decades begin to blur together a little. You’ll have to pardon me for my forgetfulnesss.”
"I can hardly fault you, my good man. If it weren't for my schedule I doubt I'd be able to even tell you what year it was, let alone day of the week. It's easy for time to slip away when you have a eternity to go through." Ruddy picks up his drink again, taking a quick sip of cold slush before he joins Pent in peering down over the railing. A moment while he mulls over what he'd just been told, and he leans in to carefully bump his elbow against his smaller alternate. He'd been backed into a corner and had persevered. That took tenacity. "You've done a fine job with this. I never so much as spared a thought towards geothermal energy as a potential source of power."
The bump to his elbow is enough to have Pent glance up toward Ruddy, raising a brow slightly, and the praise is enough to have his lips turn into a grin, wide and beaming, toothy, his hood flaring up a touch ever so slightly. “Really? That ssso? Even in a place like Hell?” He moves to pull himself upright again. “If you want, I can try and dig up my blueprintsss for the design of the pipesss. They should be in my workshop.”
"Even in Hell! I never needed it, so I never thought about it. Necessity breeds invention and all that. I built a comfortable income and had a steady supply of resources within a few years that went unchallenged even when I vanished from the public eye, you were hounded mercilessly by a hypercapitalist box terrified at the thought of you holding a shred of power." He pats Pent's back, careful to go low enough that he wouldn't risk sending the man over the railing if he misjudged his strength. "If you'd like to share, certainly, but I'd feel like a cheat taking your hard work without offering anything in return. You haven't had a chance to visit my workshop, but if there's anything of mine you desire, feel free to let me know."
“Oh, it’sss no trouble at all, really! If anything, I’m quite happy to show off my work. Thisss thing has been working near ssseamlesssly for at least a good 80 yearsss now, and I certainly would want you to have a meanssss to this tech should you ever find yourssself in a tight ssspot.” He moves to gesture to the pipe with a hand before moving to turn and keep on slithering, waving a hand to show Ruddy that he wanted him to follow. “Pleassse, please. I’m eager to see what you think of the place. Admittedly, I jusssst got done cleaning my workshop so it doesn’t look exactly the same as it would be, but still! I think you’ll be impressed by it’s size!” His tail was wagging quite heavily as he moved along, his hood spread out and visibly bristling with excitement, a sort of proud and beaming light all but seeming to creep into the man’s eyes and bring about a sort of excitement he hasn’t quite seen in Pent before.
He follows after a moment, slithering up alongside Pent as he seems to vibrate into some sort of gleeful mania. It was unexpected, but not unwelcome. He'd rather see his alt excited and energetic, much better than him being morose or anxious. "I appreciate you looking out for me, my good man! We alternates need to stick together, there's no better ally than ourselves, after all." He chuckles at his own joke, reaching out to playfully poke at Pent's hood. "Don't fret about impressing me with size, Pent. I'm sure it's impressive, but you're talking to a man who has to nearly lay down to fit through most doors."
“Ah, uh. Right, of course.” He feels the brief poke at his hood, the texture of his hair bending much like hair would for a couple of seconds, before it twitches and tangibly pushes back against Ruddy’s finger, Pent’s face losing some of that uncontrollable glee, eyes losing some of that spark, and he moves to tug at his bow tie again with both hands, clearing his throat. “Did it ever bother you? Being sssso tall compared to all the other ssssinners? Or did you literally get a boosssst in height after becoming a proper Overlord?”
The question catches him off guard, and his prodding hand withdraws as he crosses his arms over his chest in thought. Did his size bother him? "Well.. I suppose it can get annoying, at times. It's kept me from going places that I knew would be too cramped for me to be comfortable in. Even down here, most facilities aren't built for larger sinners like me. I'm restricted in what restaurants I can go to, people trip over my coils unless I scrunch myself into a ball, so on and so forth. So I suppose it bothers me sometimes, but that's why I build my ships to cater to my size instead. It eliminates the problem." He shrugs. "I fell down here at around, what, nine or ten feet tall? My tail was quite a bit shorter though. I've gotten taller since acquiring my rank, but mostly I've gotten longer. Which does let me rear up taller, but I rarely have a need for that."
“Huh. I think I honestly fell down here at this height. If I’ve grown at all, it certainly hasn’t been a notable change..” He pauses to glance back toward his own coils, and while they were by no means meager, compared to Ruddy’s size, they looked as small and as frail as one could get, dull scales, thin flank, and it makes his hood start to droop a bit. “..A lot of things certainly haven’t changed, since then..” His face crosses over with something a bit more dark, a bit more tired, but he moves to shake his head, grabbing at his drink to take a hearty sip before he moves to slip into one of the other corridors, gesturing for Ruddy to follow. Thankfully, it seemed like these hallways were designed for much more wider, taller spaces, so Ruddy was able to slip through them without much issue. “Ah, here we are! We’re almost at the workshop! Just give me a moment..” He moves to pull out a key from his coat pocket, getting it ready as the two of them begin to approach a rather sturdy looking steel door, Pentious humming a bit as he moves to unlock not one, not two, not three, but 4 secure locks sitting right there that bar the door shut, moving to turn a rather heavy lever before said door finally cranks all the way open. “There we are! Come on in, please!”
The interior of said room, was frankly, quite massive. It looked to be around twice the size of the entire damn warehouse that had been used to act as a cover for the up top elevator, with one side of the room being covered in vast arrays of blueprints lined up on tables or tucked into scrolls and shoved into file cabinets marked with different dates and strange letters combinations, a single desk for charting having multiple stands attached to them where half finished prints of different shapes and sizes laid pinned to their surfaces, the walls lined with cork boards, showing off detailed maps and threads around the city, leading to trails and traces that Ruddy had no way of knowing what they were meant to represent just by a single glance. Another part of the room was lined with parts, with mechanical pieces and equipment, tools hung up on boards and tucked into shelves, a large chunk of what looked to be the naked skeleton of a cannon mounted atop a single sturdy steel table, and even what looks to be a welder, complete with a mask and gloves and all. What was most striking at all was the stuff hanging up above the both of their heads, a massive collection of pulleys and cables and support systems that seemed to be meant for suspending massive machines into the air, said pulleys and cables all seeming to be connected to a part of the wall that seemed to open up into a large tunnel, and upon first glance, it wouldn’t be hard to imagine an airship being pulled into the room from a tunnel of such massive height. Pent moves to grin toward Ruddy as he holds out his arms, as if showing off a trick or a performance, grin wide and hood flaring back up again. “Well? What do you think?”
Ruddy wants to say something to reassure his alternate, he can see him comparing the two of them again. But Pent seems eager to leave the conversation behind, and Ruddy allows it with only a slight creasing of his brows. He'd have to try and address it later, when he could pick through Pent's insecurities and try to address them without a bunch of distractions. For now, there were other things to focus on. Like the door, and then the comically oversized workshop he'd just been escorted into.
He stills, every eye available flicking around to take in as much information as possible. Large room, blueprints, elevated ceilings, projects scattered every which way, including vertically. Pulleys as well, so he could dock airships perhaps? It seemed likely, given the sheer size of the place. Part of him hoped that Pent didn't actually have to limp his damaged ships down here very often, but he knew better. Before he'd become an overlord, he'd had to hastily land more than one ship in his time. Oh, but he'd been asked a question! He shakes his head, smiling down at his eager alternate and leaning down to meet him at eye level. "What do I think? I think you've done great things. This place is any engineer's dream. You put thought into this design, everything is well laid out and clearly reinforced, but accessible. Good job, Sir Pentious."
And again that spark seems to come right back into Pent’s eyes, heavy with excitement, with joy, and his hood flares in such a way that it all but looks as if it’s trying to pull itself up even higher than it’s naturally supposed to. He lets out a laugh, clearly trying to maintain his composure, and he moves to offer a soft pat to Ruddy’s shoulder. “Hehe, why thank you, my good man. I’ve certainly had plenty of time to rework and reshape the place to my own specificationssss, and I certainly think they fit the bill.” His eyes glance toward the file cabinets, and he moves to begin slithering towards it, starting to scan cabinet after cabinet, eyes narrowed in concentration. “Uhh…Let’s see…MT, MT…58…Ah, here we are!” He moves to pluck up a coiled up blueprint, moving to hold it out to Ruddy for him to take. “Thisss should be it, the blueprintssss for my geothermal pumping ssssystem.”
Good! The light is back in his smaller alternate's eyes, that's what he likes to see. Ruddy rises back to his full height, trailing after Pent as he picks out the promised blueprints. "Oh, why thank you. I'm sure there's plenty I can learn from this." He opens the blueprints to give a cursory glance before rolling them up and sliding them into an inner pocket of his jacket, mind already picking out the key points to consider. Where in his Hell would be a good place to find geothermal activity, and more importantly, where that wasn't in the stranglehold of another overlord…
But that was for later. He clears his throat, shifting his focus back to the current visit. "Your workshop is marvelous, Pent. But I don't see any airships around. Do you store them elsewhere, or are they all overhead in the skies now?"
“Hm?” He stops in the middle of pulling out at least two more blueprints, blinking for a moment before the question seems to properly register, and he moves to shake his head. “Oh! Oh, no, no no, I don’t ah..ever fly any shipssss that I’m not flying by myssself. In that I mean, I don’t fly more than one ship at once. I, ah…I can’t.” He raises his hands in a sorta half-shrug, his hood beginning to dip down again as his mood begins to plummet just as quick as it raises again. “I don’t trussst any of my egg minions to not plow them sssstraight into buildings, and while I’m working out a ssssyssstem currently for sssome form of automated flying shipsss that I can control from my base, the computer I’ve been working with is…not up to sssssnuff for anything so advanced as of yet.” He moves to cross his arms, eyes trailing off to the side. “Sssso I only have two proper shipsss at the moment, and when I’m not flying either of thossse or repairing them, they’re sssstowed down in one of many of the hangar bayssss I have scattered in the city. Helpsss keep people from tracking my bassse properly. Keepsss them going in circles.”
Oh damn it all, he's gone and deflated the man again. Ruddy swears under his breath, immediately ducking down to plant both his hands on Pent's shoulders and give him a gentle jostle. Forget waiting, this needed to be dealt with now before he wound up crushing the man's confidence permanently with a thoughtless comment, or worse, accidentally provoking him into a squabble over hurt feelings.
"Sir Pentious. Pent. My good man. I am not judging you, you are not failing a test. You have done great things with the resources you had to scrape up with your own cunning and hard work. Do not beashamed of yourself. You've done more than I have in many ways, just as I've done more than you in others. We're in very different circumstances, but you have already impressed me multiple times in our short visit. You just handed me blueprints for your geothermal system, I would be glad to share the technology that keeps my unmanned ships patrolling the skies around my territory. This is an opportunity for us to help each other, not a reason to wither."
Pentious seems to blink at the feeling of suddenly having his shoulders grabbed, of being given a gentle shake, his hood flaring back up out of shock, eyes going slightly wide as he watches Ruddy lean down to look him in the face, as he makes his speech and his intent clear. It was a bit of a shock to say the least, and for a moment, Pent’s mouth hangs open, like he wanted to speak but wasn’t sure of the proper words yet. Then he ends up finally speaking, brows furrowing everything slightly. “I…hadn’t even realized I was withering in the firsssst place.” He glances away again. “Apologiesss, I’m not trying to put a damper on things when you jussst got here. I should be acting like a better hossst.”
Well. Not the intended outcome, but this was still workable, he could salvage this. He shakes his head, squeezing Pent's shoulders. "You are a fine host, this isn't about that. It's about you feeling inferior when you are anything but. You are Sir Pentious, mechanical genius and future ruler of Hell. My accomplishments are nothing you cannot achieve for yourself, and I have every confidence that you would even without my help." He leans in, the brim of his hat bumping into Pent's as he tries to all but force eye contact. "Pent. You are fine. I am not upset with you, I am concerned. I don't want my friend to feel like he doesn't measure up to me."
Pent’s eyes go slightly wider as their faces get closer, his hood flaring up harder, his shoulders tensing as his back stiffens, and for a moment, it almost seems like his breath catches in his throat. He stares toward Ruddy for a long moment, eyes wide and staring, his cheeks slowly beginning to turn a soft pink color, a barely there flush, and after a moment, he nods, quietly, still staring, his heart all but hammering away in his chest. “I…I, ah..” His head was a maelstrom of feelings, of conflict, of both horrid pain and also that same swelling euphoria that he had felt at the party as their faces have grown close. He felt touched at Ruddy’s patience, at his kindness, at his concern, but every part of him, deep down, every inch of his body felt ready to dispute it, to beat it back, to fight it, and he didn’t know why. He wondered what exactly it was that made Ruddy think he was able to be on the same playing field as him when they were both in starkly different levels, when Ruddy was obviously the more successful in every way, even if said successes had been flukes. What exactly made Ruddy care about his own self image so strongly.
It had him all but frozen stiff for a couple moments, silent, unsure of what to even say. But after a couple moments, he sighs, and moves to nod softly, still keeping eye contact. “..I understand. How can I put that concern at eassse then?”
Ruddy sighs, leaning in to bump his nose against Pent's snout in a little nuzzle before he withdraws to meet his eyes again, an attempt to be reassuring and show his lack of anger. Good, he was listening at least. That made it easier, he'd half expected Pent to start lashing out after such a blunt monologue. "Just remember that you are the one that built the room we stand in now. None of this would be here if not for you. You've accomplished more than most sinners would dream of." He softens his voice, letting his hands relax on his smaller alternate's shoulders. "We're not competing. I'd be happy to offer you my assistance, if you wanted it. Not even just blueprints, but genuine assistance. But only if you accept it as an equal. I don't do charity, I invest in people who show promise."
The feeling of Ruddy’s nose pressing against his own scales, against the tip of his snout, a brief caress, all but has Pent’s breath catch even more, his cheeks flushing harder, his scales prickling with a soft heat that he can’t quite tell is embarrassment or something else entirely. He feels his heart skip, his hood quiver, the shock trailing down his spine and pooling in his stomach, and he feels almost frozen in place, entranced by a such a soft, delicate touch, of the warm hands still clasped on his shoulders. “..You’d help me?” The words slip out before he can even realize they did. “..Really?”
He chuckles softly, lifting a hand to pat Pent's reddened cheek. "Of course I'd help you. You've already helped me after all, the least I could do is return the favor, right?" Finally he withdraws, standing back at his proper height. He'd embarrassed the poor man and invaded his personal space enough, no need to push it even further now that the crisis seemed to be averted. "You have more than earned my assistance, if you desire it. I want to help you."
Ruddy’s hand softly offers a pat to his cheek, gentle, warm, and then they slowly withdraw, and Pent can’t help but lift his hand to where that hand had been, trying to concentrate on the lingering feeling of another’s palm touching his bare scales. He can’t really recall the last time he had felt someone even remotely touch his face at all, or get anywhere close to it, especially not out of an emotion of concern or pity or even care for him. It was almost dizzying in it’s intensity, and for a moment, he merely stares up at Ruddy numbly, blinking in idle shock. Then the words come rushing back to him, and he blinks, straightening up a little bit more. “W-wait, you mean you’d be willing to, like…help me, help me? Like…Help me conquer my version of Hell?”
Ruddy nods, lifting a hand to try and head off any protests. "I do mean that, yes. If you'd like me to, that is. I don't want to cheapen your victories if that would be a problem for you! You're entirely welcome to say no, I won't insist on anything."
“Cheapen-! Why on Earth would you think that?” His hood flares right back up again, this time moving to plant his hands on his hips, a grin beginning to grow over his lips yet again, toothy and wide, almost daring. “If anything it would be an honor! A tesssstament to both of our might! After all, what’sss more terrifying? Being aided by ssssome other namelesss sinner of Hell? Or being aided by a true conqueror that just happensss to be myssself?”
"See, that's what I thought, but last time I tried to offer an alternate my assistance, he was deeply offended." He shrugs, reaching down to boop Pent's snout. "But you're more sensible, as expected. If you ever want me to unleash my fleet of airships on this pit, say the word."
The poke to his snout is enough to have Pent briefly go cross-eyed, glancing down his own snout to stare at Ruddy’s prodding finger, and he briefly lets out a playful huff before he moves to push his hand aside, eyes narrowing as he smirks up toward his alternate. “I may jussst take you up on that offer. But perhapssss it would be more appropriate to show off the kind of firepower my shipssss have first, yes?”
"Oho, are you suggesting that you'd like to offer a demonstration? I do love seeing destruction." He pauses, tilting his head to one side. "Unless that would get you in trouble, of course? I don't want to put you in harms way just for my amusement."
“Oh, it shouldn’t be any worriesss. As long as I keep out of reach of that old box head’ssss immediate territory, I should be completely fine. The damn braggart tendssss to ignore me if I go about bombing the placessss outside of his own private territory. Claimssss that such thingssss are good for businesss, from what little I’ve heard of his drunken thugs.” He moves to slither toward the door, pausing for a moment before he seems to perk up for a moment. “Oh, that remindsss me. Computer!” He tilts his head upward toward the ceiling. “Are there any new reportsssss back from the sssssurveillance stysssstems I installed around the Ssssouth side yet? And have you received any new data from the sssscout ships?”
There was nothing for a moment, and then came a loud, high-pitched, almost sonorous screech that rumbled the ground beneath them, growing steadily higher in pitch until it sounded less like a roar and more like a growling scream, tapering off into a series of slow growls and hissing clicks.
Pentious, acting as if there wasn’t just an ominous scream from the depths of his base that shook the damn floor, nods twice. “Excellent. Check the ssscout ships for any potential hacking attemptsss or viruses and show me what data you’ve collected when my business here is concluded.”
Another series of deep clicking.
Ruddy jerks in place at the sudden noise, eyes widening in alarm at the, to pardon the term, hellish shriek that Pent seemed completely fine with. What the fuck? What the fuck?? What was that? Should he even ask? Maybe not. Later. Once they were no longer in this den of disembodied computer screams.
Clearing his throat, he smiles crookedly at Pent. Just. Gonna act like that didn't happen. "… Lead the way?"
Pentious, turning to flash Ruddy a cheeky looking grin, simply nods once, and moves to turn the door back open to exit out of it. “Of course, Ruddy, of course. Best to probably go and get ssssome fresh air, hm?” He sounds as if he’s trying to not laugh, moving to snatch up his coffee yet again to take a much more firm sip from it. “The actual hangar bay will actually be a little wayssss downwards, deeper underground. I know it soundsss counterproductive but I find that the hangar bay being farther away from the sssurface means less chancesss of them being spotted or followed when they go to dip back down from the sssurface.”
"Of course." He coughs into his fist, casually reaching to take his cane back from where he'd passed it to the tip of his tail. Better to have a weapon in hand, juuust in case. If he was a bit stiffer in the shoulders, he wasn't going to mention it. "You said you had two airships, yes? Are they different models?"
“Oh, indeed. One of them is meant to act as my main warship. The one mounted with the largest gunsss, the deadliessst canons I can build myssself, basically the sssort of ship I want to take into the ssskies should I really want to do ssssome carnage.” He chuckles a touch under his breath, a tinge of malice hidden just beneath it. “The sssecond ship is really more of a backup ship in cassse the first one gets grounded or crashes. It’s more of a cruisssser than sssomething meant for warfare, though. Hasss more amenities on it like a kitchen, a private room to sssleep in, that sssort of thing. The main warship hasss such things too, of course, they’re just not as…” He trails off, tapping a claw against his cup as he does so, taking another sip. “…fancy, shall we ssssay.”
Ruddy nods, his hat peering around suspiciously even as he schools himself into a forced sort of casual calm again. His cane is still in hand though, he's not giving that up. "Business and pleasure then? Fitting. People love the novelty of sleeping in an airship in my experience, even powerful overlords can get downright childishly giddy about the notion."
“Exactly why I made sure to have two shipsss at all times. Wouldn’t want to go making an embarrassment of myssself by not having either of them in working order if I happen to have any guesssts, hm?” He tilts his head a bit at that, moving to lead him out back into the corridor with the geothermal vent before moving onto the other side of the balcony, heading to a corridor on the left, passing the one that lead to the main entrance elevator. There was a slight pause, and Pent lets out a brief chuckle again. “Did my computer sssscare you?”
Ruddy chooses not to answer that question, deliberately picking up his coffee to take a long, slow sip as he give Pent a flat stare. Which is quickly interrupted by the bubbling slurp of the straw sucking air. Oh, he'd emptied it, whoops. The curse of being oversized, the common large was barely a few mouthfuls. Typical.
The sound of the coffee cup all but draining itself dry is enough to get Pent’s hood to bounce upwards, and he turns his head with a look of confusion on his face. “The hell? How did…Ah..I see..” The confusion falls away into clarity, and he lets out a bit of a chuckle at that. “..You know, consssidering the vast array of demons with different sizes, I always wondered why they never bothered to make portion sizes for those of your height. Kind of funny, isssn’t it?”
"There's just not that many of us ridiculously large people." He shrugs, placing the empty coffee down on the table again in favor of withdrawing one of the sandwiches. Which is tossed into his mouth and vanishes in a single bite. "Most sinners seem to be roughly human sized, if not smaller. You're on the larger side yourself, though not so much that it's overly detrimental. There are restaurants that cater to the larger sinners. If you remember my party, Madame runs a cabaret with areas specifically for people my size."
“Ah, yes. She wasss the…octopusss woman, I believe?” He narrows his eyes a little bit, as if trying to remember her properly, even as he turns around to keep on slithering, the corridor that they move into slowly starting to dip downwards, indicating they were slowly moving deeper underground. “She certainly seemed to be the lively sssort. You sssseemed to be good friends with her.”
Ruddy smiles, a happy little rumble buzzing through his chest. "Oh yes, Madame and I are quite close!" A glance down at Pent, and he decides to elaborate, for the sake of friendly gossiping. And it wasn't like this was a secret. "At one point I'd intended to court her, but unfortunately, we have very different.. desires? She didn't want a relationship, and I don't engage in.. ah.. amorous congress, we'll say, outside of one. Old fashioned and all that. A shame, she's a fine woman."
“Ahh, I see. Certainly sounds like she is. She didn’t talk to me at the party much, but from what I could tell, she seemed nice enough.” He offers a soft shrug, idly moving to tug at his bow tie and takes another sip at his drink, idly moving to pull out his own sandwich to take a bite, only talking again after he swallows. “Romance isssn’t really something I’ve ever done. Not out of a lack of a want to have one, but more ssso out of the idea that romance would conflict with my goals. Not many people would be willing to look at a maniac who killed millionssss of people and want to try courting them. At leassst, not in life.” His tail flicks a touch as he does so. “In Hell, I know I have a far better chance to actually find sssomeone, but my luck so far has been…not the bessst.”
"Is that so? My condolences, Pent. I never felt the urge to seek out a partner in my time here, Madame was the one who propositioned me. But I suppose not everyone can have good taste." He snorts, reaching down to squeeze Pent's shoulder. "Relationships are wonderful, when they're based on mutual respect. I only ever had the one in life, and I've missed the intimacy. Not the.. amorous kind, I mean the small things. I hope you get to experience that in time."
The feeling of a warm hand on his shoulder is enough to have Pent’s cheeks flush again, softly, and he turns his head idly to glance back toward Ruddy, staring for a moment, before moving to nod, flashing a soft smile, trying to ignore the way his heart was skipping a beat in his chest. “..Thank you. For the ssssentiment, I mean. Perhapssss maybe you’ll find ssssomeone that you can share the intimacy with again then, given enough time as well.”
He snorts, giving Pent a little wiggle before releasing his shoulder. "I hope so! If Penny can find a wife, surely there's hope for the two of us as well." He pauses, then glances down at his host again. "Though that assumes you fancy women. Apologies, I never thought to ask."
The motion of being jostled is enough to have Pent crack a bit wider of a grin, unable to resist letting out a chuckle at that, shaking his head. “Lord, never looked at it that way. If that prick can go and find a wife that adoressss him, then perhaps I can find ssssomeone who’d do the same.” He then trails off as Ruddy glances down toward him, feeling his flush grow a bit larger, before he moves to shrug and turn away. “I find that I actually tend to be attracted to both men and women. I’m tempted to ssssay I enjoy the company of men a little bit more but I can’t say that I’m only attracted to one sssside and not the other. I like both. Bissssexual, I think it’s called in the more modern termsss for it.”
Ruddy nods, taking the flush on his alternate's face as discomfort. That wouldn't do, he didn't want Pent to feel unwelcome for his preferences. He smiles as warmly as he can manage, gesturing broadly. "Fascinating how much the vocabulary has expanded, no? I'm glad more people can describe themselves without needing long winded explanations."
“Heh. Yesss, fascinating can certainly be a word for it, hm?” That earns a soft chuckle, and he trails off again, as if trying to find the proper words for what he wanted to say. “…Pardon me for asking, I wouldn’t want to seem untoward at all, but what would you say your preferences are? In terms of loverssss, I mean.”
"Nothing untoward about it, my good man. I asked you the same question, you've got every right to inquire." He hesitates, trying to find the words to describe how experience. "I think neither? I've never looked at a stranger of either sex and been remotely attracted to them. My wife was the only person who I ever got uh. Excited over, and it took a year of engagement before I actually desired her."
“..Really?” That actually has him tilting his head, and he stops for a moment, placing his coffee down on the nearby floating table. “That actually soundssss…familiar maybe?” He drums his claws against his chin. “You say you never felt attraction for strangers, only your wife. And thisss only started up when you got to actually know her?”
"Precisely. Though it's very difficult to properly get to know someone during supervised outings." Ruddy looks down at Pent, tilting his head to the side. " Believe it or not, it's not something I spent a lot of time thinking about, in life or death. In life, I had my upbringing telling me not to fool around outside of marriage, which was easy. And in death, I've never felt the need to find a partner, so I never thought much of it."
“Hmm…Really.” He turns his head back to look toward him, still slithering forward as the corridor begins to turn into what looks to be the beginning of an intersection of hallwys, frowning thoughtfully. “A lot of things that your upbringing told you not to do, I imagine?”
"Plenty, yes. The life of a noble was not as easy as it's often portrayed." He glances down the paths, some part of him still expecting something to jump out at them. "Marriage was very freeing, in my case. I'd spent my life as the perfect son up to that point, and she made me start thinking for myself. If my parents had known half the things I did once I was wed, they'd have rolled in their graves."
“Heh.” That actually gets Pent to smirk a bit, raising a brow. “That ssso? I assume you mean the ssssort of things involving death and bloodshed? Or are you meaning ssssomething more crasss?” He chuckles again, as if merely trying to tease, moving to approach a pair of large double doors. “This isss the entrance to the hangar bay, by the by. Both of my shipsss are just beyond this point.”
Ruddy rolls his eyes, smiling despite himself at Pent's playful little jab. Then the moment shifts back towards what they came to do, but in the last moment before the conversation ends, he ducks down, lowering his voice to a low murmur as his smirking lips nearly brush against Pent's hood. "Both."
Then he's rising up again, his demeanor innocently cheerful. "How exciting. Which one shall we take out today for your demonstration?"
Pent was content to simply move the conversation onwards to something a bit more civil, less focused on the aspect of love and romance, should Ruddy happen to get too uncomfortable with the conversation, save for some last minute teasing. He knew if he were in the man’s scales, he certainly wouldn’t want to bother with any sort of explicit details about either, and he was content to simply chuckle and wave off any flustering of sputtering that may follow as of the result of his little playful jabbing. But then, as he moves to place the key for this door into the appropriate lock, he just barely feels Ruddy’s breath slide against the back of his hair, a soft and quiet rumble of a whisper that immediately has his eyes widen, his breath choke in his throat, his heart skip a beat while his cheeks flush with heat. He could feel a spark of interest shoot down his spine at the thought, of all the vile things that Ruddy could possibly be alluding to, all of the lecherous, salacious things that man did with his old wife when his heart still beat, and he has to fight to not outright shudder at the thought, has to fight from curling his lip between his teeth or to let his hood rattle, tail twitching against the floor from how hard it wanted to lash. “..Oh…I, ah..I see…” His heart was pounding now, cheeks heavy with red, and he fights to clear his throat to keep any squeaks or breaks out of his voice, twisting his head to give Ruddy a slight glance. “Ah…Would you prefer if I take the more heavily armed ship? I would, ah…Like to show off the firepower I can bring to the proverbial table, as it were..”
Blissfully unaware of Pent's feelings, Ruddy wrote off all the odd body language as him having successfully startled the man into embarrassment. So he chuckles, claps a hand to his smaller alternate's shoulder, and moves the conversation along. "The heavily armed ship sounds ideal, yes. I'm looking forward to seeing exactly what your guns are capable of."
“Right. Of course.” He nods, moves to clear his throat again, idly shivering at the large warm hand upon his shoulder, and moves to finally push both double doors open. The first thing Ruddy would see is that the walkway to the hanger dips downwards, leading down to a large, central platform covered in floodlights, large thick cables and wires, the floor of the hanger stretched outwards in a vast square formation while the ceiling overhead is currently sealed shut, forming a circular shape that seems to be made of 4 separate metal panes twisting together to form the top of a sphere. Upon the center of the bay was at least two ships, both of them large, heavily armored warships, one notably much larger and bulkier than the other, seeming to be built for proper combat, thick blackened armor plates sliding down the surface of it’s hull while large red fins stretch out along the top and sides of the vast formation, two large looking canon tubes sitting upon the lower left and right sides of the airship’s main windshield. The smaller ship, sitting a good distance away from the larger, was a bit more streamlined, a touch more slim and less bulky than the warship, the fins a touch wider than it would be on the previous model, the back of the ship appearing to have larger thrusters, meaning that the ship itself was more built in mind for flying and not so much combat, and while the ship did seemed to have fun as well, lining the front of it’s frame, they notably seemed not as bulky or as numerous.
Ruddy lets his eyes be guided along by wires and cables until they finally land on the ships, nodding his approval as he took in the sight of the vessels in the middle of the hangar. Both were well built, nothing about them stood out to him as a major design flaw. A few things he'd do a bit differently, but that was merely personal preference at work, plus the sheer size difference between these ships and the ones he built meant that the aerodynamics would be heavily skewed.. He's getting distracted. "A fine pair of ships, Pent. Most overlords even in my Hell would hesitate to pick a fight with those."
That gets Pent’s own grin to grow, and he lets out a chuckle, slowly leading the both of them further down into the landing pad proper, trying to ignore the way his cheeks still keep burning from before. “Ah, I’m glad you think ssso. Admittedly, if I were able to have a more proper automation ssssystem in place, rather than build everything by hand like I do, I’m sure that I could have quite a few more shipssss besidessss just the two, but I ssssuppose beggarssss in this scenario can’t quite be choosersss.” He trails off for a moment, beginning to slither around toward the left side of his warship, tail idly flicking this way and that as he does so. “Thissss one was just recently repaired, and I’ve managed to improve a little bit upon it’s dessssigns as I did so. If you wish, we can board right now, and I’ll be able to get this ship properly in the air. Sssspruce up your vissssit to the Pentagram with ssssome proper fireworkss, hm?”
"Oh by all means, Pent. Dazzle me with destruction, I do love a good show." Ruddy gives the ship another look as they get closer. He'd had to build his ships by hand? No wonder he only had the two. In Ruddy's Hell, building his current model of warship only took a month, thanks to most of the process being automated. But back when he'd had to construct them manually, rivet by rivet and soldering wires himself, it had been at least a year of sleepless nights and overworking himself trying to shave a day off his plan, and often closer to two. He frowns at the memory, side eyeing his smaller alternate. "I can help you automate the process, if you'd like. Or we can load your plans into a few of my automated hangars, and have them building you your own warships in weeks."
That gets Pent to blink in surprise, glancing up toward Ruddy after a moment, then away, as if not expecting the offer, but after a moment, he lets out a soft hum, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Hmm…What would be better…Ideally, I may want to try working on an automated sssyssstem here within the base. Ssso you’re not constantly working your dimensional gate technology so hard and having to constantly go and drain power out of the city’s grid every time you do.” His hood twitches up a little, even as he moves to press a press a button on the left side of the ship, a metal folding frame, much like a garage door, moving to open as he does so. “Ssspeaking of, have the blueprintsss and the research paperssss I had sent to you helped you out at all on that end?”
Ruddy hums, watching the door open before responding. "There's no reason we can't do both, build your ships on my side and also set up automation locally so you aren't reliant on my assistance." His cane is help up to his hat, who seems to eat it. "Ah, and yes, in fact. I improved my efficiency by thirty percent in the primary model before my party, and I intend to make a mark two that can properly implement more of the elements of your design."
“Ah, wonderful! That’s quite lovely to hear!” His grin can’t help but grow larger at that, wider, his tail unable to resist giving out a brief wiggle before he moves to slither into the doorway itself, the floor appearing to be a solid pink on the inside and black walls that are distinctly lined with golden patterns meant to resemble snake scales, the door letting out a faint hiss as it closes behind the both of them. “Assss for that little plan, I think both operating automation here as well as creating extra shipssss in your universe shall work jusssst dandy in termssss of creating a proper army for my effortssss. Perhaps in return I can also loan you the dessssign for the surveillance scout shipssss I’ve been slowly implementing into my operations here. They’re tiny things, fragile, but they can pack a punch if they need to and they’re able to turn entirely invisssable should they get into a sssscrap. I mainly ussse them as drones, sssend them flying around the city taking picturesss and recordings from above.”
Whatever Ruddy was going to say was forgotten as he enters the ship, overcome by a burst of bittersweet nostalgia. His neck cranes, eyes taking in the area as his arms cross, hands gripping the sleeves of the opposite arms as hard as they could, a lump thick in his throat. Scaled wallpaper of all things? That's what did him in? But how long had it been since he'd redecorated all of his ships into something more respectable in the eyes of the other overlords instead of what he'd actually liked for himself? His face twists, but he has to get himself together, he can't embarrass himself in front of his host by letting himself go down that path. What had Pent been saying? Another offer? "Ah, I…" He clears his throat and tries again. "Yes. I appreciate your generosity, I'm always looking for new ways to.. strengthen my grip."
Pent’s hood twitches upwards a bit, and he turns his head to glance toward him with a slightly raised eyebrow. “…Are you alright?”
He takes a deep breath, nodding quickly before he turns his head to the side, ducked down to hide his face behind his hood. He needs to steady himself before he answers, if his voice breaks it will be humiliating. He's a respected overlord, he can't have an emotional response to wallpaper in front of someone who looks up to him. Another breath, and he faces Pent again, forcing a little smile. "Yes, Pent. Don't worry, it's just been a while since my ships looked like this. A little surprise nostalgia is all, no need to worry about me."
Pent can’t help but frown a little more at the sight of Ruddy ducking his head to the side, of his hood all but flaring up specifically to block his face from view, feeling his heart skip a beat, a slight chill starting to slide down his spine. His concern begins to grow softly, a mild lump in his throat that grows in intensity the more the silence goes on, able to see Ruddy’s shoulders tremble and tense, able to all but feel the emotion, whatever it was, surging through him like a tidal wave. He can’t help but slowly raise a hand, hovering hesitantly before slowly starting to reach for Ruddy’s shoulder, but as Ruddy moves to lean back up, smile thin and voice curt, he stills, staring for a long moment, arm hovering halfway up, claws curled in uncertainty.
He stared at Ruddy, the frown deep on his face, his concern no doubt obvious, and for a moment, he considers perhaps dropping it, before he moves to take a deep breath. No. No, he wasn’t about to ignore this. He couldn’t. Not when Ruddy had done him the favor of not brushing aside his concern about him in favor of some paltry formality. He could do the same. He could be his equal in this circumstance. His mutual. He deserved it more than anyone.
He places his hands on his hips, puffs himself up as sternly as he can, hood flaring up to it’s fullest extent. He tried to keep his voice calm, level, but absolutely stern at the same time. “…Ruddy. Ass your friend, I asssk that you tell me what’s wrong.”
Pent's response catches Ruddy by surprise, and he watches his smaller alternate puff up and firmly, but gently insist on knowing what was wrong.. And he can't even stop himself as he sputters out a laugh, pitchy and strangled and somehow wet sounding. Or maybe that was his imagination and he was just trying to excuse the way his eyes were shinier than they should be, the world a bit fuzzy, swimming at the edges. But as soon as he starts, he cuts himself off, clearing his throat forcefully as he lowers himself down to take Pent's face in his hands. "I-I'm so sorry, my good man. I'm not laughing at you, I swear. I just. You surprised me, and the way you puffed up reminded me of when we first met and you were immediately huffy, because I kept telling the eggs that you were like an irate little hognose a-and…" He starts giggling again, hands sliding down and moving to drag poor Pent into an embrace. As much to make sure he didn't pull away as to hide the fact that he was almost certainly about to cry, and did not want Pent to see. "I'm so sorry. I'm not mocking you, I don't know why I'm laughing."
Pentious was expecting a rejection. That was the first thing that came through his mind when his words left his lips. Ruddy would somehow be offended, would become horribly upset by his words, by his attempts to pry into his life, into his mind, into the emotions he was obviously trying to keep tightly locked down, and he would refuse. He would refuse, and Pent would insist, Ruddy would become furious, leave his base and storm off in a huff, and the comradely between them, their friendship, would end in a crumbling mess that ended as soon as it began, all because Pent had been too pushy to let enough alone and drive Ruddy off from ever visiting him again. After all, pushing boundaries and not taking no for an answer was all he seemed to be good for, was all that he seemed able to do, and so it was something Pent was ready to face, standing there, chest puffed up and staring Ruddy dead in the face to let him know he was at his most serious, his heart pounding in his chest as the lump in his throat solidified from sheer dread. Waiting to see that face turn into a scowl or a sneer.
And then Ruddy starts to laugh. A wet, croaking, strained laugh, one that has Pent blink as the fear begins to turn into confusion, and the fear that had started to clench down on his neck evaporates like mist the second he feels Ruddy’s warm hands cup his face. His chest sags back down slowly, his shoulders lose their tension as his face turns into a look of idle wonder, cheeks beginning to turn a soft pink again, and when he feels himself being pulled into an embrace, tight, warm, Ruddy’s chest pressed to his face, he can’t help but simply stand there, limply, for just a few moments, overcome by shock. But then, slowly, he moves to lift up his claws as best he can to grip Ruddy’s shoulders, to wrap around them right back, and his eyes flutter closed, his own voice a soft, gentle hum. “..It’ssss ok, Ruddy. I’m not mad.” The words make his lips twitch up in a soft grin, idly amused by the irony.
Ruddy shudders as smaller arms wrap around him, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. He didn't want to cry in the middle of a visit. It was ridiculous, and even with Pent being as patient as he was, this was embarrassing. And the poor man didn't even know why Ruddy was in this state. He bites the inside of his cheek, sucking in air in what sounded far too much like a shuddery sob for his liking, and squeezes his alternate more firmly to his chest. It helped, a little. "I.. It's the silliest thing, but. I changed the wallpaper in my ships when I became an Overlord. Something more respectable, less.. me, I suppose." He exhales, inhales again, runs a hand down Pent's strange hood like he was petting an animal. His vision was still hazy, but he could feel the shivering subsiding, slowly. "I hadn't realized how much I'd missed it until I saw it here. But I don't know why I reacted so strongly. I apologize for the hysterics."
The hug grew just a little bit tighter, which Pentious didn’t mind. He could feel the thudding heartbeat of Ruddy’s chest against his cheek, against his head, strong and steady, quicker than usual, no doubt because of his emotional state, and the way it beat sent the most pleasant of shudders through his bones, through his scales. Ruddy’s voice rattled and rumbles through his very veins like a miniature earthquake, deep and low and thick with emotion, and he slowly starts to rub his hands back and forth against what he can reach of the man’s back, his shoulders, trying to provide as much of a comfort, meager as it is, as he can, eyes unable to resist closing at the feeling of a warm hand stroking at the back of his hair. He ponders for a moment, on what to say, idly moving to let the tip of his tail slowly wrap around Ruddy’s own. “…I underssstand. At leassst, I think I do. It’s been a long time ssssince you felt like yoursssself, hasnt it? Since you felt like you really were Ssssir Pentiousss and not what everyone else sssaw you as.” He tilts his head a touch, not pulling away from the embrace. “Am I hitting the proverbial nail on the head?”
"I think you are, yes." He chuckles again, and breathes out a sigh as his shoulders begin to relax. Having a name, or at least some kind of reason for the meltdown helped, it rationalized it into something other than some humiliating explosion of irrational emotions. He stares at the wallpaper behind Pent, the twinge still there, but lessened to a dull ache instead of the stab it had been earlier. "They started calling me Lord Pentious, a few months ago. An honor, they said, an admission of my power. I'm a proper overlord, I deserve the rank attached to my identity. Plus, it's closer to what I was called in life, not that they knew that part. It bothered me, but I never said anything. I've always been resistant to change, it was a flaw of mine even in life." He continues to pet his alternate's hair, letting his eyes close but refusing to acknowledge the tear that managed to escape his attempts to will it away. "I still don't use it for myself. It feels wrong."
Pentious can’t help but listen quietly, softly, still rubbing over his shoulders as best he can, the rumble of Ruddy’s voice filling every inch of his scales in a way he can’t describe, trying his best to not let his hood shudder or twitch or rattle as that warm hand continues to pet over his hair, continuing to stroke over the back of his hood, a small gesture that felt warm and calming to Pent in a way that can’t help but get him to softly smile. He listens, quietly, nodding occasionally, and still he doesn’t move to pull away, idly nuzzling his cheek into Ruddy’s chest a bit more, feigning getting more comfortable in the embrace. “..Hmm. Well, I can’t quite sssay what to advise you to do when it comessss to the other Overlords; if I were in your shoesss, I simply would tell them to call me by my proper title or pissss off, ssssince why should I give a bloody fuck about their cussstoms or their rankss or any of that drivel. But I can imagine how you would want to avoid that sssort of conflict..” He trails off for a moment, but then starts to grin, tilting his head upwards to stare Ruddy in the eyes. “But…I think we can work out ssssomething better.”
Ruddy huffs out a breathy laugh, slowly loosening his grip on his alternate in favor of scrubbing the tear away from his cheek. "I'm sure between the two of us, we could figure something out. But we'll worry about that later. We didn't come to your warship so I could crumble into a hysterical mess over your sense of décor and you could sweep me up in a dustpan and put me back together, we came here so you could show off your firepower." A last pet for Pent's hood, and Ruddy withdraws to start fixing his suit where it had rumpled. "Thank you, though. For being patient with me through.. that."
The feeling of Ruddy laughing against his frame is a warm one, soft and lovely and perfect, and he can’t help but laugh along with it, just from the feeling of the vibrations bouncing through his scales, a soft chuckle that was just as breathy, just as soft. He watches as the man slowly scrubs a tear away from his cheek, as he begins to pull back, and as Ruddy moves to pull back, moves to begin fixing his suit, Pent slowly moves to grip the both of the man’s wrists with his own claws, making sure to look him dead in the eye, to let him know he was 100% serious. “Of coursssse, Ruddy. It’s no trouble at all, and I would be glad to help you out again if you ever sssstart to feel overwhelmed like that, alright?”
He stares at him for a couple moments, before slowly moving his hands up to try and cup his cheeks, stretching a touch, having to raise himself up on his coils a bit so his fingertips could even just brush his jawline. “…How about we build a ship for the both of ussss? Together. A ship that both of usss can use with a combination of both of our ideasss. You can decorate it however you want, with whatever you want, including sssscaled wallpaper. And if the rich posh bunchessss come onto the ship the next time you hossst a party and ssstart to question about the choice in decorum, you jussst tell them that a lowly sssinner alternate wouldn’t ssstop whining and moping and whingeing until you conceded and had them put up. Let me take the fall for all the damn sssneering and back-sssasssery and all that passive-aggressive tripe. How doesss that sound?”
With his wrists held, Ruddy listens with a smile still tugging at his lips. When Pent's hands move up to hold his face, Ruddy lowers himself a little to meet him halfway, leaning into the caress until his cheeks were pressed against the smaller man's palms, eyes blinking slowly as he relaxed into the touch. But the suggestion, despite the strong start, makes the smile drop off his face. Then it's his turn to grip Pent's wrists, scowling even with his cheeks slightly deformed by Pent's hands. "I was with you until that last bit, Pent. I am not going to sacrifice you to avoid mockery from the people who would gladly stab me in the back and steal my power. I'd gladly collaborate with you, but if anyone even breathed a word against anything we built together, I'd rip them apart with my bare hands. You are no sniveling worm begging for things to be done your way, you are Sir Pentious, and if they couldn't respect that they'd deserve the beating they got."
The feeling of actually holding Ruddy’s cheeks in his hands was a warm one, a soft one, one that made his own smile grow all the warmer as he feels the man lean down further so his face could properly fit into his palms. Then the smirk drops from his face, sudden and quick, and Pent feels his own smile drop, blood running cold for a moment as he feels those large hands grip at his wrists, as those lips contort into a scowl. His heart skips a beat, his mind begins to frantically try to calculate where in his offer he had went wrong as his eyes go wide, and for a moment, he feels himself start to tremble. Even when it became clear that his anger was toward the thought of the rich and powerful mocking him, laughing at him, looking down on him, he still can’t stop his claws from shaking, and he slowly slips his claws away from Ruddy’s face, letting his wrists limply he held in his palms. “…But…It would be the perfect cover, wouldn’t it? I..I’ve been ussssed to being ridiculed by the damn Overlordsss for almost my entire time down here. F-For almost my entire life. I..I can take a few sssnobby comments about some damn wallpaper. What..What’sss a few more for the pile?”
He tries to offer a grin to break the tension, but it falls as quick as it forms, and he can’t help but look away, now starting to feel the burn of tears well up in his eyes. “..I’m sorry..” His words were choked, eyes squeezing shut. “I..I know you’re not mad, it’s..It’s not that, I just…” His frame begins to shake, his voice a soft cracking whisper. “…I thought it was a good idea..”
… Ah. Of course, he'd scared the poor man while he was trying to be compassionate. Ruddy backsteps as best he can, dropping Pent's wrists to pull him up off the ground and into a hug, his head resting on Pent's shoulder as he makes soft little shushing sounds. "It's alright. Your heart was in the right place, I know. I just don't want you to suffer on my behalf. Your pain wouldn't make me happy. You shouldn't have to grin and bear that kind of mockery and dismissal at all, least of all for a man who can't even handle telling other people to mind their business over how he decorates his home."
The tears just barely keep from boiling over as he feels those arms wrap around him again, as he feels his coils leave the ground again, and he has to keep the urge to start actually sobbing back as hard as he can as he feels the man’s warm chin rest on his shoulder, as his voice rumbles through his bones and makes the jittering quake of shame and confusion in his chest all the worse with that confounded swelling of his heart. His eyes squeeze shut tightly, trying to keep a tear from squeezing free, and he can’t help but move to wrap around Ruddy’s shoulders again, trying to keep his breath stable enough to talk, to keep himself from hiccuping through his words, wanting to be coherent enough to be heard. “I..I’m sssorry…I don’t know why I’m…acting thisss…mushy…I..I’m never like thisss usually, I ssswear..” He attempts to rub at one of his eyes to wipe away the start of tears, idly wincing as he can start to feel the wetness of more tears beginning to creep down his scales, the rest of his eyes beginning to join in the soft, bitter crying. “..I…It’sss…It’s just that I’m not sure how else to help. And…And I want to help you. And I would be fine with putting myssself in the posssition to be mocked. Ridiculed. You..You know how many timesss I’ve had rich basstards ssspit at me in the face in the past?” Another weak attempt at a joke as he holds up two claws. “At leassst twice!”
The joke has too much truth to it for Ruddy to laugh, he squeezes Pent all the tighter and shakes his head. Of course he'd sacrifice himself for an idol. The poor man was painfully selfless, throwing offerings at Ruddy at every turn and trying to do everything he could to help. Normally it was fine, appreciated, and Ruddy could offer something in return to make Pent smile and feel a bit more confident. But this was too much. He'd never accept the idea of throwing his own alternate to the wolves to spare himself mockery. Not in a million years. So he leans back, holding more of Pent's weight and murmuring softly as he begins to rock back and forth. "You already helped just by listening, Pent." He turns his head, pressing a soft kiss to Pent's cheek before burying his nose in his alternate's hair and continuing his soft shushing.
The joke didn’t seem to land, rather falling completely flat instead, and Pent merely lets out a weak sigh that has his cheek idly nuzzling into Ruddy’s own shoulder, his hood rattling faintly but thankfully not having much strength to fluff up into his full height. His eyes close as most of the urge to start crying falls away, his chest briefly expanding before he lets it all out again as another shuddering sigh, tail idly flickering where it hangs in the air. His eyes close as he feels Ruddy whisper to him, soft and warm, and the feeling of lips press against his cheek has his eyes all but shooting open, the kiss incredibly chaste but also so very warm, so very gentle, and for a moment, he can’t tell if his heart wants to burst right there or do a flip in his ribcage. He stares at the door beyond Ruddy’s back, trying to keep himself together, either from breaking down into a sobbing fit further or just losing himself in a dizzying haze of feelings, and his claws idly curl into fists, unsure how to feel, caught between the shame that burned in his mind like a brand or the euphoria and confusion of being kissed washing it away in a flood.
Finally, realizing he hasn’t talked yet, he moves to clear his throat, idly starting to rub at Ruddy’s back, even though Ruddy wasn’t the one that needed any assurance. “..I..I underssstand. Apologies for, ah…breaking down like thisss. I…I haven’t had anyone defend me like thisss in a long time. Essspecially not anyone like you before. I..I’m honestly more touched than I could ever hope to convey. I know that sounds…silly, considering we all but just met, but…I mean that.” His eyes close. “…Apologiesss if I’m making you…awkward or uncomfortable or…obligated to do thisss for me.”
"I feel no obligation, I'm doing this because I want to. You just helped me through my own embarrassing little meltdown over the smallest thing, I'm more than happy to return the favor." He huffs into Pent's hair, lips curling into a smile as he feels hands start rubbing his back. It had been, what, five minutes tops since the emotional roles had been switched, and now here they were. "We're turning out to be quite the pair, my goodness. If this becomes routine I'll have to start bringing more handkerchiefs with me. But truly? Nobody's bothered to say a work in your defense in all this time? That changes now. I'm in your corner, Pent. You can turn to me."
“..Heh…I’m..glad to hear that, Ruddy. I really am.” He nods softly, unable to resist letting out a soft chuckle as Ruddy starts to joke about the both of them, his heart finally moving to swell and thrum with warmth, his lips finally turning into a smile, soft but there. “I’ll be in your corner too. Asss best I can. Though, I sssuppose I’ve made that a touch obvious, havent I?”
"A little, but I don't mind at all. You said it yourself, we Pentiouses have to stick together." Ruddy sets Pent down, running his hands over his shoulders to try and smooth the rumples out of the smaller man's suit. These things weren't really designed for being picked up in, unfortunately. "Are you ready to show off for me, then? Or would you like a moment more to settle?"
“I..I think I’m ready. Thank you..” He idly reaches up to give one of Ruddy’s hands a soft squeeze as he feels himself being placed down again, as those talons dance along his suit to try and straighten it out and smooth it down to make it more presentable. He takes a deep breath, once, twice, sniffles, then puffs up his hood, placing his hands on his hips yet again, trying to ignore how all his eyes are just the slightest bit more puffy. “Would you want to see how I get thissss ship up in the air, for sssstarters?”
"I absolutely would, Sir Pentious." He emphasizes the title, smiling widely down at his alt in an attempt to encourage him. This snake needs a hype man right now, and Ruddy is more than happy to fill that role. "Show me how you've made this all work."
“Of courssse! Please, do follow me!” He moves to turn on his heel (tail?) and begins to slither his way further up the hallway, his hands moving to cross firmly behind his back, posture snapping to a straight position, hood firmly flared upwards, like he was trying to either put what happened behind them or simply try to save face, more and more of those snake wallpapers passing them by. But just as they start to lapse into a slight bit of silence, Pent turns his head ever so slightly to glance at him out of the corner of his eyes. “Jussst so we’re clear, we can sssstill build a ship for the both of usss so you can have sssscaled wallpaper, yes? That part is still a good idea?”
Ruddy is content to follow silently, letting Pent have a semblance of privacy as he comes back into himself. So when he's asked a question, he has to wait a moment to answer, his hood flaring out slightly at the surprise. "Eh? Oh!" He snorts, slithering closer to playfully poke Pent's cheek. "Yes, that's still a good idea, my good man. My only objection was the idea of letting yourself be sacrificed to spare me a few judging glances. That simply won't do. I'd love to build a ship we can both be proud of."
“M-!” Pent, not expecting the cheek poke, let’s out a surprised little squeak, idly leaning his head to the side as that claw squishes itself into his face, before he starts to grin, letting out a bit of a chuckle, moving to poke Ruddy in the arm right back seeing as he couldn’t quite reach the man’s face. “Alright then, Ssssir Pentioussss, you got yourssself a deal. We’ll both build a ship together.” Another poke with the same claw. “And it will come with sssserpentine wallpaper. I’ll make certain of it.”
He clutches his chest in mock horror, gasping far too daintily for a man of his size. "Oh no! Serpentine wallpaper? However shall I survive such a thing? What will the neighbors think?" He can't even hold the act for long, his hands moving up to hide his mouth as he giggles. "That sounds lovely, Pent. It will be a fine way for us to learn how our skill sets differ. I'm sure we'll be able to teach each other plenty."
The mock horror is enough to have Pent let out a soft little chuckle, unable to resist shaking his head as he laughs, the both of them occasionally passing by a window or that shows off the rest of the hangar where the ship was sitting, indicating they were slowly getting deeper into the belly of the ship proper. “I certainly think ssso too, Ruddy. At thisss point, I’m sure the both of usss could craft a warship ssso strong it would never crash!” His hood puffs up a touch as he moves to cross his arms, a toothy grin causing his smile to split from ear to ear, eyes closed in a smug sort of confidence that was clearly no doubt quite exuberant.
"Oh I believe the same, but I'm most looking forward to watching the dawning horror on the faces of the fools that thought you were about to trot out an ship they stood a chance against." He smirks, glancing out a window as they slither past it. "We can make as many as we please, of course. Model new weapons for it, all the bells and whistles."
“Ohhh, new weaponssss you say. Now that is an interesting idea..” He pauses to chuckle, and then, as he moves to push open another pair of double doors, the cockpit of the ship is finally revealed, long and wide, a lower floor in front of the windshield covered in a collection of panels and buttons, while an upper floor, the one they were currently standing on, holds the largest and most prominent looking control panel, with a large spherical screen in the center that was currently black and empty, shining buttons lining the surface while there were at least two large levers on either side of the main screen. Pent moves to gesture to said room with a flourish of the hand, the windshield large and looming across from them, the view looking to be quite the marvelous one, even when the only thing they could see at the moment being the hangar still. “Well? What do you think?”
Ruddy looks around the cockpit as they enter, humming to himself. Not too different from his own ship in here, a bit more hands on, fewer displays. But a fine layout, he felt comfortable. "I think you've got a fine setup in here, my good man. It's a little different, but familiar enough that I feel like I would adjust in only a few moments."
“Why thank you, Ruddy.” A brief flash of a grin, before he moves to slither over to the main control panel, wriggling his claws for a moment before he moves to bend down to grip at another lever he has placed on the wall of the left side of the box, giving it a slow, heavy crank, once, twice, three times, and it was then that a rumble seems to echo through the very ship, deep, groaning, like metal pipes wheezing* to life, followed quickly by the slow, sluggish clanking and whirring of gears and cogs as they begin to lurch to life in their proper places. The screen on the main panel blares to life with a loud collection of beeps, a bright pink screen popping up, one that Pent moves to begin typing at with a clawed hand, eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he does so. “Ok, let’s see…All systems in working order, the core hasn’t shown any ssssigns of full decay, ballassst is weighed down and no holes in ship’s armor…” He nods a touch, moving to grasp his claws against both levers, glancing back worn a smirk toward Ruddy, wide and almost devious looking. “Are we ready to head up and caussse some chaos?”
Ruddy slithers closer, slinging an arm companionably around Pent's shoulders to squeeze him against his side. "Why, I thought you'd never ask, my man! By all means, it's been far too long since I saw a proper show of force. Impress me, show me exactly what you're capable of."
The feeling of being all but pulled into Ruddy’s side is one that briefly has Pent wobbling a touch, not quite expecting such an affectionate grip, but after a moment, he lets out a harder laugh, a more hearty one that sounded much like the sharp beginnings of a proper cackle. “Well, now I sssimply must do my damndest then, hm?” He flashes a slightly raised brow, before he moves to crank both levers with an audible clunk, the whirring noises of the airship as it steadily begins to activate itself growing louder and louder by the moment, until Pent finally cranks one lever backwards before moving to press a series of buttons to the left of the main screen. There was more audible clunking, whirring, clicking, and then finally a soft jolt that makes the floor briefly shake, as the aircraft begins to slowly rise from it’s position on the hangar, steadily rising up into the air. “And here we go…”
He'd heard it called the music of machinery, once, and that held true. The sound of whirrs and clunks, the engine coming to life as the airship begins its ascent, there's not a feeling like it. Even now, after over a hundred years in Hell and countless flights, he still got a thrill at every liftoff. His claws dug slightly into Pent's shoulder, hood lifting as he stared out the windshield. His smile was wider, toothier, eyes alight with the promise of chaos. This man was ready for a show.
It wasn’t long before the hangar bay dipped completely out of sight of the main windshield, the view from beyond the glass now only showing the glowing frame of the tunnel that lead up to the surface, Pent’s claws occasionally tapping on a button or switching the positions of the levers, in which the clunking and creaking of the ship’s massive interior would start up all over again, the cogs and gears clicking away steadily, a faint rumble under the both of their scales that seemed to thrum in their bones. Finally, there was the sensation of light, slowly beginning to flood the tunnel from up above, and finally, there they were, up on the surface, slowly ascending past the destroyed, rotten buildings that surrounded and plagued the edges of the Pentagram’s Sides, and steadily beginning to rise higher and higher up, until finally, the buildings down below looked as tiny as mere ants. Pentious moves to crank a lever again, tapping away on the screen before a steady beep rang through the air, and clanking began to rumble through the ship, another slight lurch as the ship stops ascending, and instead begins to cruise forward, slowly and steadily. “And there we are! Pentagram City from below! What do you think, hm?”
He leans forward, peering down at the city below them. There was cannibal colony, still intact, not a pile of rubble nobody dared touch. So many districts unchanged, buildings he remembered from before, still standing tall. Unconsciously slithering forward, he presses a hand against the glass of the windshield. "It's like a time machine.. Your Alastor never rampaged a second time, then? Overlord Rosie still lives?"
“..No, not since 1933..” He sounds vaguely perplexed by such a question, leaning forward to stare at Ruddy from the lower floor with an increasingly large look of concern. “Wait, a ssssecond time? He rampaged again? And Rosssie is dead in your universssse?”
Yes." He pulls away from the windshield without a second glance, slithering back up to Pent's side. "When I killed Vox during the extermination, the power imbalance… It threw everything into chaos. Turf wars broke out the likes of which I'd never seen. Overlords that had been quietly minding themselves reared up and fought bitterly, angelic weapons were broken out of storage as they tried to outdo one another. Cannibal Colony was decimated, even now it's nothing but rubble. Soon after, the local Alastor wiped out almost every Overlord in one night for what they'd done, and then dropped off the public radar entirely."
“…Dear lord…” He can’t help but feel his hood drop ever so slightly, just trying to even imagine the carnage. He had been lucky to be far away from the first of Alastor’s rampages, when he had all but ravaged the entirety of the Pentagram in a single day, distant and relatively unscathed in his ship, but the thought of being caught in the middle of it….He can’t help but shudder at the thought of it. “..How in the hell did you manage to avoid that?”
Ruddy shrugs helplessly, face puzzled. "I think he chose to leave me be. He's never raised a finger against me unless I specifically attacked him or an area he was currently defending. At the time it happened I wasn't in the fight, I'd been laying low letting the fools kill each other. Afterwards he took to constantly seeking me out to make the same joke, over and over."
“…The..The sssame joke?” He feels even more puzzled, his hood completely flat now, his frown even more pronounced. “What joke?”
"Oh, he'd constantly ask if he knew me. Every time we saw each other. It was infuriating. But the more I attacked him, the more eager he was to run over and ask it again, at our very next meeting." He rolls his eyes, arms crossed as he scoffs. "Turns out the bastard is desperate to talk to anyone who won't run screaming, and I'm one of the only people that would even look him in the eyes, let alone challenge him."
“Oh thank God, it’s not jusssst me!” Pentious then proceeds to hang his head and heave a heavy relieved sigh, as if a monumental weight just got lifted off his shoulders, his hands moving up to run through his hair before gripping the ends as they start to shake. “My Alassstor does the same,” He jerks his hands down as if in a chopping motion to emphasize his words. “god damn, THING, and it drivesss me bloody NUTS! I mean, what’sss his fucking deal with me! I never touched the basssatard once until he ssstarted blowing my shipsss out of the sky for the hell of it, and I know god damn well that ssssson of a bitch knows my name! He was born decadesss after my conquessst of Earth, there’s no way he couldn’t know, and yet he keepssss on pretending I’m a bloody NOBODY!”
Ruddy snorts despite his irritation, rubbing a comforting hand on Pent's back. "I think on some level they're fascinated with us. We're masters of technology, and they typically have a deep appreciation for that sort of thing, outside of Vox's hypercapitalist nightmare surveillance state determined to snuff out art for marketability." His other hand waves dismissively, then comes around to gently stroke through Pent's hood. There there, little snake. "He does it because he knows it gets a reaction."
“Funny god damn way of showing fassscination..” Pentious lets out a heavy irritated sigh, but starts to slowly relax a touch as that hand slides up and down his spine, unable to resist shivering a bit as he also feels Ruddy’s claws start to stroke through his hair again, hood twitching upwards and causing the strands to stiffen around his fingers, letting him feel the odd sensation of flexing bending muscle and the distinct feeling of a pulsing beat. He can’t help but smirk a little bit, and he lets out a slightly amused huff, idly leaning into the hand stroking at his hood even as it flares up and shivers against his claws. “Your Vox wasssss like that too, I imagine. Did he also constantly monitor single god damn piece of electronics that his company ownssss like a hawk, lisssstening in on everything and everyone and sssspending his time hoarding every little preciousssss piece of tech he could get from topssside like a goddamn dragon hoarding gold?”
"He absolutely did, and it was infuriating. People didn't care of course, most sinners felt like they weren't worth spying on, if he wanted to listen to them talk about their grocery shopping that's his problem. But they forgot that their information is a product he can sell." He sighs in exasperation, continuing his stroking for a few more seconds before he withdraws. "At least when I took over I actually started paying the inventors who sold me their designs."
“Tch. Of courssse he never paid them.” His tail twitches and lashes ever so slightly in annoyance, hood twitching up when Ruddy’s hand withdraws from his hair, his annoyance clearly known. “That’s the mosssst inssssufferable thing about that braggart. Claimssss himself to be a master of technology yet he can’t even ssso much as repair a broken pipe without having an engineer on sssstandby. Hasss all his damn inventions made by engineers he givesss pennies to while HE rakessss in all the cash and publicity by shelling out these soulessss half baked machinessss out to brainwashed idiotsss that don’t know good quality engineering isssn’t supposed to melt into slop the second it gets too overheated.” He huffs again, but then his scowl starts to turn into a grin, and he casts a glance toward Ruddy. “I think perhapssss we ought to show these fools what true engineering looks like, hm?”
"My goodness, now that was a smooth transition." Ruddy snickers, nodding his head. "Yes, my good man, I think we ought to. As a public service, of course. They don't even know what they're missing, but we should put a little spring in their step in no time."
HorrificBlight — Yesterday at 3:08 PM
“Heheh! You’re jusssst about reading my mind. The only quessstion issss…How to sssstart off. I don’t want to wasssste the ssssurprise of all my proper weaponssss too early, but I also feel like my secondary weaponssss won’t have that ssssort of flash I’m looking for..” He can’t help but hum to himself, smirking playfully, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he taps his claws along his chin. “..What do you think? There’sss plenty of available optionssss in termsss of targetssss right below…”
Ruddy hums, crouching down to peer at the controls, then back at Pent, expression almost innocent if you ignored the bloodlust in his eyes. "I think we should find the biggest building available and flatten it. Ideally in one shot, but it hardly matters. A statement of intent, as it were. Give those loathsome sinners a show before they start running for their lives."
“Ohoho!” The malice that all but fills Pent’s eyes, constricting his pupils into thin slits, making his hood flare up and rattle with glee, is almost palpable at this point, and he can’t help but let out an excited giggle that sounds like it’s bordering on the beginning of a cackle, giving a lever a wrench before he moves to press down on several buttons, the canons that were on the front of the ship starting to lower themselves onto a more offensive position as the ship slowly begins to lower itself, gliding down closer to the buildings, just enough that the specks of people below could be seen, and a shadow was cast over the streets as they do so. “There, for a much better view. Now asss for what building…” His eyes flick back up to the towering complexes that surrounded them, some being homes, others being apartments, chain stores, parking lots, shopping malls, and of course, car blocked roads. He jerks another lever, moving to slide a claw around the main screen, until a steady beeping was heard, and the canons begin to glow. “I ssssay we take out that apartment. That one right there, with the shiny glass pyramid as it’s top. Hasss quite the lovely looking penthousssse inside of it.”
"I hope whoever is living in that penthouse got the best insurance they could, but I don't think cities offer much against snake infestations." He titters at his own joke, slithering a bit forward and adjusting his glasses to get a better look at the apartment building that Pent had pointed out. All sparkling glass and ugly blocky shapes, what an eyesore. Where was the style? The soul? "Really, we're doing everyone a favor knocking this horrid thing down. Maybe they can build something that isn't a concrete rectangle next time. Architecture never should have been mass produced like this. Not so much as a flying buttress on that thing.." He sniffs haughtily, waving a condemning hand at the building. "Take it out, my good man."
“With pleasure, Ssssir.” The last word almost comes off as a coo, were it not for the now maniac grin that was overtaking Pent’s face, hood flaring widely and rattling like mad as he moves to violently wrench both levers forward, the humming of the canons getting louder, a pink glow starting to crackle and fill the air before the blast finally reaches it’s apex, and two large blasts of bright white energy, outlined with hues of magenta, all but rocket through the air faster than a bullet or mortar shell ever could, colliding with the ground floor of the building with a thunderous crash that sends plumes of smoke and rock debris rupturing up in a geyser of flames, the building itself collapsing and falling like a sack of cards, crashing down with a thunderous roar onto the streets below. Pentious can’t help but giggle harder, beginning to grow into a satisfied chortle as screams begin to fill the air, loud and terrified, and he wrenches the levers forward once again, another volley of laser fire all but vaporizing the buildings behind the smoldering wreck, seconding at least two more blasts or fire and broiling destruction spewing up into the air. “How’sss THAT for some desssstruction to start usss off, hm?”
Ruddy doesn't even bother trying to stifle his cheery giggling, bouncing childishly on his coils as he watches the destruction unfold in front of him. What a sight! There was nothing like it, just listen to those screams. A little finger fluttering, and he slithered closer to the windshield. "Beautiful, Pent. I couldn't have done it better myself. That apartment collapsed like a swooning socialite who laced her corset too tightly, and those other buildings hardly even left rubble." He holds his face in both hands, casting an admiring view first outside, and then back to Pent, affection and bloodlust mixed together. "You're every bit as brilliant as myself, those weapons are masterpieces of engineering."
The sight of the delight on Ruddy’s face, the absolute sadism and whimsy, Pent can’t even deny anymore that it sends a flurry of fluttering to his heart, sends a shock of heat through his cheeks and a feeling of pure elation to his scales, that same strange lightness that filled him at that party filling him again and all but leaving him breathless. He stands there for a moment, staring down toward Ruddy’s expression, unable to keep the flush from entering his cheeks, but then his grin only grows louder, and he lets out a sharp bark of a laugh that is so loud it echoes all around the room, hood flaring up as high as it can go as his tail lashes in a fit of pride. “HAH! Jussssst wait until I pull out the real featsssss of war, my dear Ssssir! These two laser guns are merely my firsssst defensessss against any possible gunfire from below, I haven’t even begun to approach my proper weaponsss.” He moves to press a single button down on the control panel, wrecking his levers back again as a section on the panel springs upward to display a holographic screen, two handles on either end of the screen with buttons on top. “Thisssss is the next level of weaponsss I have in my arsssenal. I don’t jussst have canon fire, but I also have turretssss.”
The ship begins to fly over the flames that were slowly starting to spread around the places where the craters were struck, a slow and steady pace that lets them both get proper eyefuls of the screaming, terrified civilians down below, splotches of red indicating where people had been crushed and smoldering specks being those who died from fire burning at their flesh. Pent squeezes down on both triggers of the handles, bending and angling the screen as he does so, and a hail of bullets, of mortar shells, fire down upon the streets, sending rows of explosions upwards that tear through asphalt and send cars and limbs flying into the air in wild arcs.
The next laugh that bubbles out of Ruddy is nothing short of a cackle, and he struggles to slither in a straight line as he does the serpentine equivalent of staggering back up to Pent's side to clap him on the back. "Turrets! Of course! I love a good turret, look at those fools all but evaporate into a fine mist! Do you have a sound system rigged up on this vessel? I always played a little classical with my rampages." A pause, and he amends himself. "Or a few select modern songs. Britney Spears' Toxic is always hilarious to play over gunfire. It adds a certain je ne sais quoi that just can't be beat."
The suggestion of music to play along with the cacophony of screams and explosions as Ruddy all but stumbles his way back up to the upper level was enough to have Pent let out a brief cackle himself, raising a hand to his lips as he tried to keep himself together, idly pressing down on the trigger of the turrets with his free hand to send another spray of explosions into a collection of buildings that were all but shredded into pieces on impact. “I…have abssssolutely no idea who that isss or her work, but I’m sure that it would be hilarious. I never actually conssssidered the idea of playing music during an attack or anything of that sssort. I more ssso let the explosionsss and the sssscreams-“ Another press down on the trigger, this time with both hands, directly nailing a speeding car that sends it flying up into the air with an almost comical explosion that sends it flipping forward. “-make the mussssic for me!”
Ruddy nearly collapses as the car goes flying, wheezing so hard that he needs a moment to suck air into his lungs before he can speak. "Oh my god. That driver probably feels like they got sent through the blender. Poor bastard." He shakes his head, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. "The music isn't necessary, I'm having a blast already. Though not as much as these poor bastards, hm? Sounds like your rate of fire is giving them fifty blasts a second." That joke wasn't even funny, but he's wheezing all over again anyway.
Despite how the joke isn’t even that funny, Pentious can’t help but start wheezing right along with him, idly moving to lean against Ruddy for support as he hunches over from the strain of his mirth, eyes squinting shut as he starts to outright cackle, tossing his head back as he laughs uproariously, his tail thumping across the ground and tossing one hand as best he can over Ruddy’s shoulders while the other sends another spray of explosions down onto the burning pyre of a city street below. “God, that was..That was fucking awful…Wasn’t even that good..” Pent tries his damndest to recover, choking back his guffawing between words before he stifles his laugh properly with a cough. “Ehem…Maybe I should go and show off one of the stronger weaponsss I have in my arsssenal now, yesss? Now that I’ve got my captive audience all warmed up and ready for it. It’s not the grand finale, no no, but I think it’s time we, ah, pull out the big guns as they say.”
It takes several seconds before Ruddy can compose himself enough to respond, a hand still pressed to his cheek when he finally gives Pent his undivided attention. "Oh, you're spoiling me today. By all means, my dear fellow, show me what you've got. You're certain this won't attract any unwanted attention?"
“Heheh. I hardly sssee why it would. Unlesss that buffoonish old deer is around, I’m sure we’re far enough away from any turf that Vox may be guarding, and I try my damndessst to stay away from the Colony asss much as I can.” He can’t help but shudder a touch at the thought of that place. “Would ssssooner shoot myself then end up with a crashed ship there of all placessss..” He pauses for a moment, as if lost in thought. “..Now where was I? Oh, right, yesss.” He moves to press a button on the screen of the control panel, causing it to light up with the words AUTOPILOT before he moves to pull away. “Thisss specific weapon I’m afraid hasss to be piloted manually, so I may have to sssstep away for a moment or two. Isss that alright?”
Manually piloted? Goodness, he hadn't had to manually pilot a weapon in years. Interest piqued, Ruddy smiles indulgently towards his alternate. "Go right ahead, I'm content to watch the carnage while you concentrate on doing the actual work. I might as well have popcorn." He gives Pent a parting pat, settling down in his coils to watch whatever show he was about to witness.
“Heheh. Better be buttered popcorn then! I won’t accept anything elssse!” He moves to saunter off with a slight laugh, sticking his claw up in the air as if his opinion on the type of popcorn he enjoys is one of absolute fact and cannot be disputed. There was nothing else after he goes to slither out of sight, and for several minutes, nothing else happened aside from the screaming that was still filling the air down below, as well as the occasional crash as a building finally went as collapsed in on itself after a load bearing wall finally gave way. Then, finally, there came a low, heavy rumbling, deep in the floor of the airship, like the sound of something being activated along the bottom of the hull. He couldn’t quite see it from his view of the windshield, but judging by the shadow that was slowly growing across the ground of craters and fire and dead bodies, whatever it was, it was definitely massive.
In the minutes it took for Pent to get the gun running, Ruddy had mostly sprawled out on the floor, resembling a pile of pasta more than a proper Victorian gentleman as he watched the lasting carnage with a lazy satisfaction. But then the rumbling hit, and he shoots upward, glancing around wildly before he remembers that ah, yes, Pent had a gun to show him, and this must be the grand reveal. He returns his attention to the windshield, watching in anticipation as the shadow spreads. Impressive size, but he wanted to see what it did.
It wasn’t long before he finally did see what it did, and boy was it amazing to watch. It was like a switch was flipped from carnage to total oblivion in an instant, the air crackling with that same pink glow of laser weaponry before, almost in the same instance, that crackling came to an apex, and a beam of light, so bright that it made Ruddy’s eyes sting just to look at it, all but ruptures from the bottom of the ship, almost like it was the blast of a supernova reaching it’s climax, rocketing across the ground with such intensity it causes the asphalt beneath it to crack and break apart like the most fragile of baked clay, the buildings to be ripped of their windows, their doors, their walls, cars and bodies going flying while the air rumbles with a mountainous drone. The blast finally cuts itself off, and for a moment, as it flies off in the distance, there’s silence. But then, an explosion, so powerful it actually causes the ship to wobble and sway ever so slightly in the air, crashes to life, shaking the ground and causing a shockwave of debris and earth to come rising through the air like a wave and flames to come erupting out of the top of the pillar of smoke, towering into the air so high it almost reaches the clouds.
There was a crackle from an unseen speaker system as the chaos from the explosion finally starts to die down, and from it, Pent’s voice is heard, laughing uproariously. “HAHA! I KNEW IT! I KNEW THOSSSSE MODIFICATIONSSSS IS JUST WHAT THE DAMN TBING NEEDED! OH, IF ONLY IT HAD CHARGED SOONER BEFORE ALASTOR GOT THE BEST OF MY SHIP, I WOULDVE TURNED HIM INTO ASHESSS!”
The explosion shook the words right out of Ruddy, the snake growing still and silent as he pressed up against the glass, staring out at the carnage. Hundreds, perhaps thousands had been vaporized in that moment. One shot had been all it took. The rampant destruction would take months to rebuild, and that was if whoever the overlord controlling this area even bothered.
But who cared about that? The sinners would regenerate in a few days, it was a painless death. The buildings were ugly anyway, good riddance. Pent comes over the speakers and Ruddy smiles, turning away from the window to look up at the nearest speaker. A silly thing to do, it wasn't like he could look his alternate in the eye like that, but it felt right. "You too, then? That was an infuriating defeat, if there ever was one. But it taught us an important lesson about charge times and not expecting our enemies to politely stand and wait for us to try and kill them."
“IT CERTAINLY DID, DIDN’T IT?” There was another bout of laughter through the loud speaker, long and cackling, before he moves to speak again, now sounding excited. “Tell me, tell me, what did you think, dear Ssssir? What did you think of the marvelous destruction?”
"I thiiiiiiink…" He drawls lazily, dragging out the anticipation as he coyly turns away to stare out the window. Did Pent really need to ask? No, but he wanted to be validated and hear it out loud. And who could blame him? Ruddy wasn't going to be the one to take the wind out of his sails. He snickers, turning back to the speaker with a grin. "I think you've done a magnificent job, my dear fellow. This kind of destruction would put anyone to shame."
“HAHA! WONDERFUL TO HEAR, DEAR SSSIR! GIVE ME JUSSST A MOMENT, I’LL BE RIGHT WITH YOU!”
"No rush, I'm certainly not going anywhere!" But he should actually make sure he's presentable, which meant more fussing with his suit. Damned thing.
It wasn’t long before Pent did return into the main cockpit, grinning so wide it looked as if his cheeks may rip apart, hands proudly tucked behind his back and head held up high, and as he sees the carnage left behind outside, he lets out an almost startled laugh, leaning over so as to get a better look. “My lord! It’sss almost as if a nuclear explosion went off down there! Far better than what I wasss expecting!”
"All of the destruction, hopefully none of the radiation!" He pauses, then looks down at Pent. "… There's no radiation, yes? I don't want to have to deal with regenerating to get rid of the growths."
“Oh, no no no!” He’s quick to wave his hands to dismiss the very thought, shaking his head just as hard. “No no, it’ssss not radiation. My technique for lasssser technology is entirely revolved around magic. That issss, purified magic.”
"Purified magic, you say? How did you get your hands on that, my good man?" Ruddy's hood perks up, head tilting in curiosity. He'd made some strides in magic himself, but not in weaponry….
“Oh, it wassss a processs I discovered yearsss ago, actually. I think in the 40’sss. It was thisss process I came up with where I found a way to sssort of..” He trails off a touch, as if trying to think of the proper words to use. “Sssteal the magic out of objects and place them into a crysssstalline casing. In essence, that traps the magic into a ssssingle closssed space, preventing it from being contaminated by whatever object used to hold the magic insside of it. Rendering it pure and thusssly able to be used asss an energy sssource.”
He rubs his chin, turning to look out the window as he ponders. "Is this magic, or Hell energy? Or perhaps they're one and the same in this universe. They're not in mine, but I can't fathom how many magical objects are just sitting around ready to be siphoned down here."
“Ohoho, that’ssss the key, my good man.” He moves to idly tap at Ruddy’s cheek (rather his jawline because that’s the highest he can reach) with a claw, now smirking smugly. “Magic, at leassst in my universsse, is in everything. In demonssss, in Hell beasssts, in the flora, even down to the tiniesssst drops of water or grains of sand or dirt. There’ssss magic in it. And we’re never running out of thingssss like soil down here, are we?”
The sudden tap on his jaw gets Ruddy's attention, his eyes snapping back to Pent as he explains. That did make sense. The mechanics seemed the same, more or less, perhaps he was dividing the different forms of occult energy into too separate a series of labels… A problem for later. If this alternate had found a way to work it out, he deserved a hearty congratulation for it. "Certainly not, Sir Pentious. You've managed to source nearly limitless energy, then?"
“Indeed, indeed! And it only took 80 or so trial runs and 57 explosionssss to perfect the process!” He puts his hands behind his back, grinning even wider, all but preening at the praise. “And I certainly think all the problemsss were definitely worth the effort, were they not?” He moves to gesture toward the chaos, finally moving down toward the lower floor to creep closer to the windshield, to survey his work more properly. “And to think…Thisss is what I can do with only one ship…”
"More than worth it, I'd say! And if we can decrease the charge time further, it could become quite the deterrent to keep people at a distance, Nothing says stay back like a double barrel shotgun full of tiny nukes, hm?" He snorts, lowering himself into a pile of his own coils as he watched his alternate slither. "We'll have an automation system built for you in no time, and if all goes well you'll be an overlord by the time the year is out. You barely even need a boost!"
“Heheh…It’s wonderful to hear that sssort of thing..” His smile begins to turn a little more soft, a little more gentle, and he moves to turn toward Ruddy, the sadism and pride in his eyes fading away into something that looks a little more like compassion, a little more like gratitude. “…Thank-”
The sudden explosion of bright, searing light that burst through the windshield was enough to be totally blinding. Bright, brilliant arcs of deadly electricity, of lightning, shattering through the glass like it was paper, like it was little more than a blade of grass, flying through the air like swords, like deadly weapons of war, lashing into the floors and walls and cutting mighty gashes into the metal and wires, crawling across the room of the cockpit like a spreading flame, and causing the whole of the vessel to roar, to groan and creak as lights flickered and the structure began to perilously tilt and wobble. The crack of thunder filled the air, deafeningly loud, enough to fill the air with the crackling of static, with the rattling of bones, and as the blare of the ship’s alarm begins to fill the air, emergency lights starting to glow a hellish red, Ruddy just barely registers the sight of Pent’s frame flying past him, crashing into the nearest wall on the upper floor of the room so hard the metal dents, his face twisted in pain, in shock, and as he starts to limply fall, he can see the hollowness to his eyes that lets Ruddy see that he isn’t breathing. Then, he collapses into a limp, defenseless heap, blood starting to slowly leak down onto the floor, hair strewn out in a blanket of thick black strands, face down and unmoving.
There was a laugh, loud, distorted and filled with an electric buzz, like someone was speaking through an voice tuner, and a figure manifests from the crackling electricity, flashes of light still crawling across his claws and his crimson eyes narrowed in a glee of malice. “Pathetic as always you miserable god damn serpent. I oughta just-“ He stops short when he finally recognizes the presence of another snake that happened to be in the same room, and he blinks, staring as the grin falls from his face completely. “…What the fuck?”
One second, the two are sharing the beginnings of a genuine moment of friendship, with Ruddy's face starting to quirk into a crooked little grin. In the next, the world goes white. Or seems to, for a moment, as lightning and glass cut through the air in a horrible display of light and reflection. Pent goes flying, the eyes on Ruddy's tail tracking his arc and crash even as his face snaps forward to see what the fuck just happened. A malfunction? No. An attack, he knew that energy anywhere, even after this long. And then like a ghost he appears, Vox himself.
For a moment, time seems to still for Ruddy, all of his eyes straining to take in as much information as possible. The situation was bad. Pent was injured, the ship was going down, and his arch nemesis had just appeared. So he had to do what he did best, what he'd always done before. Identify the problem. Solve it. Vox was the cause of all this, he was the problem. So Ruddy had to solve it. For himself, for the ship, and for Pent, bleeding on the floor and utterly defenseless. He'd never fought Vox in his own universe, but the bastard had already made a fatal mistake.
Ruddy rears back with a hiss so deep it sounds like rumbling thunder, the floor around him vibrating from the force of it. His eyes are like burning coals, and he seems to grow in size as he rises further and further, his coils lifting him off the ground until he was high enough to strike, his full body weight crashing down on Vox's body fist first, all the force he could muster thrown into a punch to crush the intruder straight to the floor.
Ruddy can feel the screen of Vox’s face shatter the second his fist makes contact, can feel the impact of glass crumbling beneath his scales as it makes contact with the buzzing wires that were contained within his casing, and the only thing that he can hear is the scream of Vox’s voice, in pain and filled with anger. His body never hits the floor, however. One moment it’s there, the next, in a rush of electric crackling, it’s not, and as Ruddy crashes onto the floor, Vox rematerializes, clutching his fractured face in a hand, the other ominously glowing and sparking with trails of electric light as pieces of glass slip out of place and fall between his fingers. He lifts his hand from his face, an ominously red glow appearing from beyond a haze of circuits and metal, and his distorted image warps into a vicious snarl of rage, raising both hands to launch a bolt of lightning straight toward Ruddy’s chest.
The snake doesn't have time to even try to dodge the lightning, the numbing crackle of electricity striking him dead center. He can feel his muscles spasm, tail thrashing across the floor as it courses through him. Unfortunately for Vox, however, Ruddy is a stubborn old bastard at the best of times, and with this much rage and adrenaline in him he doesn't hesitate to drag himself by his arms to chase the man down, ignoring the way his body jerked and twitched. Clawing over to the injured intruder, he reaches out, grabbing him by the ankle and yanking him down so he can sink his teeth into whatever passed as flesh on this man.
There was a shriek from Vox as he all but was swept off from his feet as easily as a gust of wind blew open a deck of cards, slamming into the ground as Ruddy pulled him down, and as those teeth sink into his arm, he was once more met with the heavy crackling pain of electricity coursing through him, the taste of ozone and copper welling up on his tongue as his teeth met nothing but metal and wires. Claws gripped at his temples from Vox’s free hand, another jolt searing itself right through his head, while the arm that was trapped in his grip desperately tried to claw at his eyes, Vox’s antenna buzzing wildly with how hard the discharge was starting to grow.
A bolt of white hot pain tore through Ruddy, the smell of burnt scales faintly registering in some distant corner of his brain, a detached sort of observation that meant nothing to the rest of him as his body lashed out in blind, instinctual rage. Unable to see, eyes unfocused and blurry and possibly bleeding if the wet tingling that followed Vox's claws were any indication, he snarled and thrashed, one of his massive hands groped around for Vox's neck. Weak, slender, and most importantly breakable. There was no dignity here, this was a battle of survival.
There was nothing but the sensation of his hand grasping at Vox’s cheap, tacky suit, barely registered past the pain, a pain that only further increased as Vox’s other hand finally manages to twist in the grasp of his teeth to plant his other hand on Ruddy’s cheek, increasing the pain of the voltage even more, to the point where he was almost convinced his vision was starting to fill with red, that he would either feel his innards sizzle to a smoking crisp or he would simply catch on fire first. But then he finally feels his claws sink down on Vox’s neck, feels the sensation of Vox’s breathing momentarily lapse as he grips down, and that sudden shock is enough to have the discharge stall. A brief second of vulnerability.
Ruddy couldn't release Vox from his jaws even if he wanted to at this point, couldn't try to pull his head back and escape the pain. The electricity coursing through his head had locked those muscles in place. But he didn't need to move his head at all, he didn't need the fine motor skills that had built his empire. All he needed to do was force his fingers to curl as tightly as they could around that fragile little throat, and yank, artless and clumsy and with enough force behind it that he could feel his convulsing shoulder muscles scream in protest.
He can’t quite hear if Vox makes any noise, as his claws dig in, as his grip squeezes down on that stupid, reed-thin little neck. As the shocks come back in, as strong as they’ve ever been, enough that he feels his ears start to ring and blood to start spilling through his teeth, he sees the man’s distorted face move, his single visible eye widening with something. Perhaps fear. His mouth moves, either trying to say something, or simply trying to scream. But all Ruddy can take in is the feeling of slowly, painfully ripping that damn neck off of the shoulders, wires snapping, metal crushing, warping, electric currents lashing out with tongues of lightning from the opening, until finally, with a heavy SNAP, Vox’s head comes off completely, and the screen flickers and blurs before turning completely dark. The current stops short, and slowly, ever so slowly, the body slumps over with it.
If he could breathe, Ruddy would heave a sigh of relief. But for several seconds, he can't. He lays in silence, feeling his body twist and spasm as his mind drifts in and out. Everything hurt, but at least he'd finally killed Vox. Again.
Wait, again?
Shit. He couldn't rest, he had problems to solve. The man drags himself back to awareness with a rattling gasp, rolling onto his stomach as he tried to force his blurry eyes to focus. Everything was tinged red, but he wasn't sure if that was due to damage, or the alarms. The ship was crashing, he had to fix it. The controls were close, he just had to drag himself over. One arm over the other, one bloody fucking inch at a time, his tail still useless as it shivered and twitched behind him. He'd watched Pent fly the ship, all he had to do was get it steady.
The blaring of the alarms, the repeating flashing of red, it made it so hard to see, so hard to make anything out beyond his already swimming vision. He could barely even tell the direction he was crawling, which way he needed to go, his mind blurring back and forth between a haze of pain and fatigue and a constant mantra of alarm and panic. Every part of his body was either screaming in agony or so numb he couldn’t feel it anymore, and he swore he could feel parts of his scales crack and chip and crumble like charred meat, like the hollowed out remains of a tree after a forest fire. His claws touched the walls, but he couldn’t get a grip, only barely able to scrape them against the frame of the metal that greeted his fingers. He couldn’t climb his way up. He was too injured. Too weak.
It wasn’t until he felt the sensation of something crawling along his back, shifting over his shoulders, that he was aware of anything at all. He sees the frame of a hat start to tip into his vision, leaning over the left side of his face as it peers at him with a look that almost could be described as…inquisitive. Then, it briefly vanishes, only to see out of the corner of his eye, Pent, gently being lowered to the floor right next to him by large black tendrils, his face still obscured by his head, his frame still limp and unresponsive, splotches of dried blood caking his scales. The tendrils, soft and cool and frighteningly large, begin to slowly wrap around his limbs, his coils, slowly pulling the both of them together, just as a dark, heavy mass, framed with teeth along the edges, slowly start to grow atop them both, wide and looming, like they were about to be swallowed up by the open arms of an umbrella.
That did it, the electricity must have cooked his brain. But what was he supposed to do about it? Whatever was happening, he was either dying, hallucinating, or maybe both? He'd never regenerated from electrical damage before, maybe this was all his synapses freaking out after Vox fried him. He should make a note of it later. If there was a later. Maybe Vox wasn't dead, and the stupid TV was going to off him for good.
What the Hell. If he was going to die, either to Vox or the ship going down, he wasn't going down without doing his damn best. He shakily drags Pent's limp body against his chest, jerking his barely responsive coils into action to wrap as tightly around his smaller alternate as he can manage. It wasn't much, but maybe he could…? Cushion the landing? Be a meat shield? At least all that bulk on him would be useful. But it was all he could do at this point, it had to be enough.
The last thing that filled his vision before everything went dark, either from the mass slowly clamping itself down over the both of them and blocking out the light, or from his body finally slipping into full unconsciousness, was the sight of the view outside of the windshield as the ship rushed rapidly toward the ground.
Ruddy wakes up with a jolt, all the pain hitting him at once and making him wheeze. Which only makes the pain worse, his insides screaming and his throat cracking until he's forced to drag himself up onto his elbows and hack up gobs of congealed blood and spittle, memories flooding back. The world was still dark, had his eyes completely given out? Was this limbo? No, it couldn't be, he could feel ground underneath him, and.. Pent was still next to him.
He reaches out, trying to find.. He wasn't sure. Something. Light, an edge where the ground dropped away. Anything.
The first thing he does feel, vaguely, is the sensation of something heavy press up against his claws, something solid, warm, but also with the texture of rock or stone, something that couldn’t be torn like flesh or ripped apart. There was the sound of clicking, deep, low, a similar kind of clicking to that monster Pent inexplicably has deep below his base when it screamed, except this one was more more sharp, much less ominous, and light begins to slowly fill Ruddy’s vision as whatever blackness was covering them shifted away, that texture of stone rapidly turning back into a feeling of flesh, of thin webbing, that slowly pulls away from the both of them. He sees the now barren and lifeless wreck of the cockpit that surrounded them now, glass strewn about and metal warped to it’s breaking point as wires uselessly crackled, the alarm gone silent, the ship long dead. There was the smell of smoke, but thankfully there didn’t seem to be any fires, and aside from the screaming in the distance, there didn’t seem to be anyone loitering around the damn place yet. Vox’s body was nowhere to be seen; regen was unlikely, it would have to take far longer than that to regen with a ripped off head, and even if he did, he doubted Vox would’ve simply let them be. His corpse must’ve been thrown from the ship on impact.
Everything hurts too much for him to even care about the horrifying creature hovering over them. If it wanted them dead it could have killed them by now, so it was immediately dismissed under the label of 'problems for later Ruddy'.
Part of Ruddy, a large part, wants to drag himself up, go find Vox, and make sure that he stays dead. But a larger part knows that he's in bad shape, and Pent got hit pretty hard. They both need medical attention, not vengeance. So, reluctantly, he reaches into of of his coat's many hidden pockets, withdrawing a pushpin that is stabbed into the ground, then gathering Pent to his chest as the portal forms. New problems to solve, he can do this.
As the portal slowly begins to form in the ground, the horrifying mass of webbed flesh that hovered over the both of them seems to rapidly shift and warp, bones creaking and snapping, blood sloshing and meat audibly ripping and tearing, before finally the beast resumes it’s newest form…Pentious’s hat, sitting there atop his head just as it did before he had been struck. It blinks toward him for a moment, before it lets out an idle chittering, a rasping growl that was laden with clicks and hollow clattering of unseen teeth, raising itself up on thin spidery limbs before turning in a circle at least three times atop Pent’s head before settling back down against his scalp again.
He watches the hat thing mutely, still blurry eyes blinking in a vain attempt to focus. Definitely a problem for later Ruddy. The Ruddy who didn't have a half cooked brain.
He limps his way through the portal with his alternate in tow, appearing in the depths of his own workshop, eggbois milling around doing repairs and goofing off. The portal is closed by one, the pin pulled from the ground and eaten, and dozens of tiny hands are suddenly squirming under his coils, hoisting him and his passenger up to drag them to the first aid station across the workshop.
Pentious wasn’t quite sure of how long he had been unconscious. The latest thing he can really recall is the feeling of starting to say something to Ruddy. He wasn’t sure what. And then blackness, deep and heavy, but it wasn’t a temporary death. He could feel himself, listlessly dreaming, breathing, feeling, even when his mind couldn’t process the feeling of anything anymore. It wasn’t the snap-quick feeling of death where everything became nothing until he was waking back up among his own bloody remains or with a bullet freshly sticking out of his forehead, and when the time came for him to slowly wake up from that unconsciousness, when his mind began to pull itself up from the deep abyss and he became slowly more aware of himself, of his body, he couldn’t help but note that his back was aching, that his breathing felt tight, weighted, like something was sitting itself atop his chest and pressing downwards, not willing to release him. He couldn’t help but wince a touch from the feeling of his painful breathing, of the feeling of needles sinking into his arm and pulling at his skin, of the feeling of his bruising, aching frame, and he slowly cracks open one eye, then the other, gritting his teeth as the bright lights overhead sting his vision and cause him to wince harder. “Gghh..”
The egg sitting next to his head peers down at the little boss, patting his face affectionately as the other eggs picked up the pace. "Oh hey little Boss! You're in pretty rough shape ya know, you probably shouldn't move until we're done sewing you up!"
The sensation of a tiny smooth hand patting at his cheek is enough to cause him to grimace, and were he of a sounder mind, as well as body, he probably would’ve immediately tried to slap the egg away for daring to be so close to his face. But as it is, he feels like he can barely move at all, so all he can offer is a soft, faint hiss, lips curling back to display his teeth and his hood weakly twitching and ratting, pinned underneath his head. His eyes try to glance around, try to get a sense of where he was, and his voice comes out as a soft, rough croak. “Where…Where the hell am I?”
"You're on Our boss' airship! He brought you back with him before he fell over." The egg completely ignores Pent's hissing, picking up an alcohol wipe to start swiping at his face with.
Mm-!” He can’t help but wince at the feeling of an alcohol swab, cold and rough, starting to scrub over his face out of nowhere, eyes squinting shut in order to avoid the damn thing accidentally jabbing one of his eyes out, the hissing in the back of his throat growing louder, until the Egg’s words finally process in his head. His eyes pop open, wide, alarmed, and though he can’t move, he tries his damndest to crane his neck, to attempt to spot Ruddy as best he can. “W-What? Ruddy?Ruddy*, are you alright? What happened?”
Pent's frantic calls are met with a low groan from somewhere to his right, but Ruddy himself is hidden behind a wall of eggbois. Pent's own assigned egg slaps the alcohol wipe over his mouth, shushing him loudly. "Shhhh! Little boss, we gotta let the others keep working on boss, he's pretty roughed up!" It pats his cheek again, then moves to sterilize where it just touched. "Did you fight a lightning man?"
The taste of the alcohol wipe was foul as it slapped over his lips, and if Pent had any strength left in his frame he would’ve smashed the damn egg into a bloody omelet stain on the wall for it, his eye twitching as he fights the urge to do just that, not wanting to rip open any of his own stitchings. His concern quickly switches back to Ruddy, eyes watching the eggs as they work, his frame starting to shake, to quiver, wondering what the hell could’ve happened that accidentally hurt him so badly. The egg’s next words are enough to give him pause, and he frowns ever so slightly, wondering what the little thing was on about. “..L..Lightning man?”
"Yeah! The boss is all crispy and clawed up." The egg drops the wipe, moving down to poke Pent's neck and drag its' finger down in little frilly curls. "He's got the funny little lines, too, the kind you get from lightning strikes! But you don't have them. Did you not fight?"
Pent feels a pit of dread begin to grow in his stomach the more the egg talks, the more what happened became clear, and he slowly clenches his claws into fists, beginning to feel the bitter sting of tears start to well up in his eyes. “…God dammit…God fucking dammit…He never fought him before. He never had to, he wasn’t ready..”
"Aw, don't be sad little boss!" The eggboi reaches into its' little suit pocket, withdrawing a tiny handkerchief to pat gently against Pent's eyes. "Boss'll be alright! He's waaaaaay too tough for some dumb lightning guy to keep him down. He's just a little crunchy is all, and he always calls himself that anyway!"
“But I should’ve realized what was going to happen..” His claws curl harder into his palms, his hood starting to quiver, not so much rattling but merely shaking, his breathing starting to grow a touch more heavy, a touch more painful, swearing he can feel his heart all but withering in his chest from sheer dread. “Should’ve..Should’ve not exposed my ship so easily with that damn blast. Such a damn fool. Of course Vox would come running at the sight of a blast like that, of course..”
The handkerchief is pressed more firmly against Pent, the egg completely out of its depth but trying its best to help, in its own simple minded way. "I dunno little boss, what would boss think? He brought you back here, it doesn't sound like he's mad at you or anything! He didn't even slap you around a little!"
“That’sss not the point. I..I was being a careless idiot and I ended up getting him hurt. I got him hurt. It’sss my goddamn fault..” His tail weakly curls up into itself, and he jerks his head away from the handkerchief as best he can. “..Leave me alone..”
"Little boss.." It frowns, looking from Pent to where Ruddy was, and back again. "Do ya wanna see him, little boss? Maybe it's not as bad as you think! Boss can get worked up over stuff sometimes."
There was a soft moment of silence, then Pentious silently nods, quietly. A few lingering tears were still clinging to the edges of his eyelids.
"Alrighty little boss, you stay here!" Good! A doable task! The egg claps its hands, moving around Pent to go start shooing the eggs around Ruddy towards the smaller Pentious. It may not have been what Pent was expecting, but he was quickly picked up and carried over to get laid out next to Ruddy's semi conscious form, the larger and entirely undressed snake blinking blearily at his alternate as the 'medical team' continued their work.
Pentious can’t help but wince as the movement of those tiny eggs slowly picking him up with their wobbly hands and blunted fingers jostles his aching ribs, brushes against the aching burns on his side and along the barely stitched up cuts and gashes that seemed to be littered everywhere along his scales, drawing in a heavy hissing breath through his teeth even as he feels himself being slowly laid right next to Ruddy’s prone form. The heat of his scales was all but palpable from where he laid, was all but radiating off of his flesh like the heat of an open when the door was opened, and he can’t help but turn his head in place to face him, the sight of the blackened, cracked, charred scales, of the red that lined his chin and his eyes, made Pentious start to tear up even more, the scent of blood and ozone so thick that it was almost choking. He wants to reach out, wants to try and convey just how deeply sorry he was that he caused this to happen, but all he could think of to do was to slowly lean forward, was to slowly rest his forehead against the man’s shoulder, where there was no blistering or crumbling of the scales, shoulders quivering as he tried to choke down a sob.
Ruddy watches Pent with a dull sort of comprehension, dosed up with enough painkillers to leave him almost entirely unaware of his own state. The pain was a distant buzz, the cut of surgical blades and sting of alcohol poured on open wounds faint twinges. But at the sight of his alternate seemingly distraught, he reaches out with a bandaged arm, clumsily patting Pent's head. "S'okay." He slurred, voice thick with concern. "I gottem. Sorry 'bout your ship, it uh." He blinks, trying to think of the word that best described the state it had been in. "It 'sploded."
The words that slipped through Ruddy’s lips, slurred and thick with a sleepy sort of awareness, with dim fatigue, was enough to have Pent choke back a bittersweet laugh, barely managing to stifle the chortle that threatens to rattle his ribs and bring more pain to his body. He moves to shake his head ever so slightly, now starting to feel tears drip down his cheek. “That…That doesn’t matter at the moment. I’m..I’m more concerned about you…I got you hurt..”
He stares, mind slowly processing Pent's words. He got him hurt? No he didn't, Vox did. It wasn't even Vox's ship, Pent had been unconscious. And he'd just repaired that ship, what did he mean it didn't matter? But that was too many words for him right now, so he had to settle for simplifying. "No. I got me hurt. Punched 'em in the face. Popped his head off." He licks his lips, squinting. "Bit 'em. That was dumb."
“..Heh..” Another bittersweet chuckle. “Yess. My Vox is, uh…Metal and wires, mostly. Forgot to…mention that.” He sniffles, idly nuzzling his cheek against his shoulder as he turns his head to stare at the burn marks. “Should never have fired off that sssstupid canon..”
"No, s'okay. Just having fun." He tries to pat Pent again, flopping his hand around mostly ineffectually. "You okay? The wall dented."
“…Think a couple of my ribs might be cracked. And I have a burn on my skin, but…Nowhere near as badly as you..” He sniffles again, softly, slowly moving to try and curl his own claws around Ruddy’s closest arm, careful to not touch any parts of his skin that may cause a burn to shift or stretch. “…I’m sorry that I couldn’t help. I know you’ll say that it’s ok, but I can’t help feeling awful.”
Pent was really torn up about this.. Ruddy frowns, squirming his arm around in a clumsy sort of jerking motion to try and pull Pent into a side hug. Best he could do in this state, but it was something. "Not your fault. He got you first. C'mere."
Pent lets himself be pulled close, not having much more energy to argue at the moment, sniffling softly, but nodding a touch, trying to keep himself from shaking too much at the emotional weight that all but seemed to be dragging down his shoulders. He glanced down to watch the eggs as they work, wincing every time he sees destroyed scales needed to be stripped away, every time he sees red and raw flesh being slathered and bandaged.
Ruddy's eyelids droop after a few moments of silence, and then close entirely as the man dozes off. The same eggboi approaches from Pent's other side, patting his shoulder. "See little boss? Boss is alright! He'll be back up in no time, he's just tired!"
“Hmm…Perhaps you are right. For now.” He lets out a soft sigh, letting his eyes close too.
Raetos groaned as he found his way back to the waking world. He knew he was alive by how much his body ached. His head, most of all, felt like someone was hammering multiple nails in place. Only one luminous eye opened, the other still swollen shut under bandages wrapped around his head. His abdomen was also strapped tightly. He could feel the pressure of the wrappings limiting his movement, as to not aggravate what he assumed was broken ribs. The wound on his arm had been well cleaned and bandaged. Someone had been talking very good care of him.
He smiled, not having to wonder who, feeling the body curled up against his own. Tilting his head down, he caught a glimpse of the top of Fable’s head… there was no mistaking those lovely indigo locks.
“How long have I been out?” He asked.
For just a moment, Fable grumbled and curled more tightly against Raetos. If this was a dream, he didn’t want to wake up. The hellscape that had been The Maw was no longer ringing in his ears, and his lover was by his side again. This had to be a dream. It was never this good.
Or was it?
The blood hunter finally peeled open his eyes, sitting up after a moment to look over the large lightforged next to him. His heart fluttered at the sight of his lover’s smile, and he reached over to lay a gentle hand onto his bandaged chest. This had been no small feat, what Raetos and the others had pulled off.
“Days, love. Take as long as you need, yeah? I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Fable’s expression softened as he curled his fingers against the bandages on Raetos. Yep, still there. Still real.
The Draenei’s smile only grew wider as he reached up with his good hand to cup the side of his lover’s face. Raetos didn’t understand much of anything about death and spirits. But Fable looked well. Looked healthy. Better than he had in the Maw, for certain.
“Careful what you say, Babe. I might ask to stay here forever,” he said, flashing his signature grin, “...wherever here is.”
It suddenly dawned on him that they couldn’t be on Azeroth. They still had to find the soul dagger to get Fable his body back… and they obviously weren’t in the Maw anymore. Last thing he remembered was a very pissed off Avehi.
“Uh… where are we?”
“Oribos. Think that’s what they call it, anyway. Kinda a hub for uh...all sorts ‘a people,” Fable glanced at the door, as if the answer would be there. Truthfully, he’d been more worried about Raetos than asking about the name of the establishment.
He leaned over Raetos carefully to kiss him. Tender, sweet, and like he’d been afraid he’d never see him again. Everything had culminated to this point, and truthfully Fable wasn’t sure what he was doing. Getting out of The Maw had been his first task, but the blood hunter wasn’t sure if he could retrieve the dagger by himself. Wasn’t sure he’d want to do it alone. Doubt weighed heavily on him, tied down by the guilt of what he’d done to get here in the first place.
“Hey, love… You got my body, yeah? I’m gonna have somethin’ t’ go back home t’ when this shit is figured out? ‘n th’ animals are taken care of?” his voice was quiet, almost unsure. Fable loved their little life that they’d built, and still worried that he’d ruined it all.
“Mhm,” the Draenei managed a nod, thumb stroking his lover’s cheek, “The tree elf dude you got to take care of the animals while we were away agreed to stay as long as needed. I think we owe him a really REALLY big tip. Obligation and Responsibility really seems to like him, though, so don’t have to worry about them. Did you know he lived in that big ass tree that the Horde burned down? That’s where he got all the scars. Poor guy… Anyway, I was able to find your body at the dig site after going through your maps and stuff. Brought it to the healer chick that was deployed to Darkshire with me. You’re in a coma-like state back on Azeroth, and she’s keeping you nourished and stable until we manage to destroy that dagger.”
He paused in his rambling for a moment, knowing the next part was a bit touchy.
“Hey… uh… on that subject. Bad memories, I know. But like… anything you can tell me about the lady that stabbed you… physical description or name… if she gave you one…”
Another pause before adding.
“Was she hot? She must be hot.”
“Well, yeah… I mean it ain’t like I got bad taste,” Fable smirked, then paused a moment. “Wait, tree… They’re called Kal’dorei.”
The news of his body being taken care of was something of a relief, though the blood hunter still didn’t like the situation at all. Cebina had royally screwed him, and now he had to go find that dagger too? This was just getting more and more complicated…
“She uh… I’d know her if I saw her, yeah? While you were restin’ tho, I asked ‘round ‘bout the dagger ‘n souls ‘n shit ‘n this creepy lookin’ dude called a Venthyr told me ‘bout this place called Revandreth. Said a lady was there ‘n might have a dagger kinda like it?” Fable scratched at his chin in thought.
“Sounds like our next destination,” Raetos nodded, a cheerful smile on his face, “I know it’s not the best of situations, but we get to explore this whole new place together, and I’m sure we can get supplies so that you can map it all out.”
Obviously it would have been much more ideal to have Fable whole for the adventure, but there was no harm in seeing the bright side of the situation.
“Soon as moving doesn’t hurt anymore…” he winced as he shifted, “So... what’s a Venty. Not another type of elf, is it?—Not that there’s anything wrong with elves! There’s just so many different kinds and I can barely keep up with the ones I know.”
“Venthyr, luv. They’re like uh...anima vampires? Ain’t too clear on ‘em yet but I was watchin’ ‘em wander through Oribos while you were restin’,” Fable pulled out a notebook he’d obviously obtained here in the Shadowlands. A keen eye would notice that its leather bindings were a bit unlike any leather on Azeroth.
The first few pages were sloppy, slightly disproportionate sketches of the various different types of people he’d seen wandering through, along with notes of things he’d either overheard or asked them flat out. The page with the Venthyr man had no notes, however. Clearly, the hunter hadn’t approached him.
“They got fangs ‘n glowin’ eyes kinda, most of ‘em are real skinny. Nice clothes though, ‘n some of ‘em wear thigh high boots. Thinkin’ maybe I should get a pair?” the elf chuckled, leaning to stretch his leg out as far as he could, toes pointed.
“Babe, you would look hella amazing in those boots,” the Lightforged agreed, “Are there any with heels? If so, you should avoid them, because then, your already sexy ass will just look too good for me to resist. Afraid you won’t get anything done in that case.”
His hand slipped down to give his partner’s behind a little squeeze, before he attempted to sit up. It was a more daunting task than anticipated with his injuries, but he managed.
“Fashion sense aside, are these Venthyr people safe? The one you drew has like… an evil look to him. Or are they all that withered looking and ugly? Also, what’s anima? And what are the lampshades with legs that you drew in there?”
A smirk spread on his lips at the squeeze, but his attentions to the affections were pulled away when Raetos was trying to sit up. Fable assisted, but his brow furrowed in worry. Had his lover been hurt worse than initially thought? Damn it all, now he was fretting like a mother hen. The lampshades comment pulled the hunter out of his head though, and he just blinked for a moment before tilting the book towards him.
“The lampshades with legs? Oh, those?” Fable pointed at one of the doodles of a Broker. “They call themselves Brokers. They help facilitate trade of goods and services. Information too, ‘m sure. Ain’t got a chance to really chat jus’ yet.”
The concern crept up onto the elf’s face again, and he leaned over to kiss Raetos’ cheek.
“You doin’ okay? If you gotta rest…”
Raetos shook his head.
“Nah, just sore is all. The headache is the worst part, probably. Dude, Avehi hits -hard-! Did you see how pissed she was? Ha! Good times!”
He smiled brightly to his lover, bringing his hand up to cup the side of his face again.
“Honestly, I’ve rested plenty. I just want to look at you,” he admitted, “I missed you so much, Bae… so don’t mind if all I want to do is cuddle and make out for a while.”
He paused, before adding with a wink.
“Wouldn’t hate a blow job either.”
The elf just smiled. That sappy, sweet, completely enraptured smile as he nuzzled into Raetos’ hand. It had felt like an eternity, fighting for his life. Being reunited had been on his mind the whole time, but even now Fable’s heart ached for the life they’d had before. Though, in the middle of his thoughts, a smirk broke through. That was the Raetos he knew.
“Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t…” Fable turned his head to place a kiss in the palm of Raetos’ hand. “If it won’t hurt you, I’m gonna swallow you whole…”
“I mean… not like I can move much in these bandages,” he grinned, running his thumb along Fable’s bottom lip, “Doubt I’d be able to find a way to hurt myself.”
He paused as he thought about that a moment.
“—Okay, so I would -probably- find a way to hurt myself. But it would be hella worth it, though.”
Fable caught Raetos’ thumb between his lips, cerulean eyes closing as he pressed the barbell through his tongue against the calloused pad. A promise. As his lover spoke, the elf savored the taste of his flesh, finally opening his eyes to look up at him with a smirk. He released the thumb after a moment only to place a kiss into Raetos’ palm.
“Jus’ sit back ‘n enjoy then. You deserve t’ be worshipped,” he mumbled against the blue skin, continuing to kiss down from his hand to his wrist. Of course, he’d wait for permission.
It felt like lifetimes since he’d been away from Raetos, and only minutes that they’d been back together again. Fable felt that familiar skin hunger, but it had only gotten stronger after they were in safety, and he could touch and smell his lover again. The blood hunter had to remember to pace himself; Raetos was still recovering, and they were still in a strange place. But tomorrow could wait. Tonight belonged to them.
((Co-written with @brent-sunborn / @thefugitivemango. It’s backdated to when the scourge event happened.))
The shop closed early for the day, much to Hyacinthe’s delight. So many orders were coming in for traps and explosives and cloaking devices that their hands ached from wiring and bolting and fastening. The devices weren’t difficult to build, just tedious. And that was the worst part. Nothing could be done to speed up the process, they just had to work straight through it.
Outside of Cut Throat Alley there were sounds of a bit of commotion, but it was hard to tell exactly what was going on. Given the recent celebrations for All Hallow’s Eve, the engineer figured that people were carrying on like they did. Things on the warfronts had quieted down with everyone’s efforts, so a bit of relaxing was due. With a smile, Hyacinthe retired to their loft bed, limbs aching with each ladder rung.
A scream cut through the walls of the shop like a knife, loud and shrill. The bard jumped, then scrambled across their bed to the window at the head and pushed it open. Said window overlooked the canal, where Hyacinthe could clearly see people running now. There was an acrid stench that hung in the air, but it could almost be dismissed before their blue eyes settled on it.
The risen scourge beast was giving chase to the woman who had screamed, dirt and grime falling off of its decaying body with each footstep. Old bandages trailed behind it, and where that one came from there were more shambling in. Hyacinthe’s heart dropped to their stomach at the sight, fingers digging into the window sill until their knuckles were white. The woman hadn’t escaped, and her screams had trailed off into a sickening gargle when the scourge beast bit into her throat.
“I have to run,” Hyacinthe muttered, yanking the window closed and bolting it.
They had already packed some bags in preparation for the newest dig, which was fortunate. It was easy to shove a few more things into a bag, just in case they could never come back. Hyacinthe’s heart was racing and sweat was beading on their forehead, causing the dirt and grime to pour into their eyes and hair to stick to their skin. For just a moment, the bard pulled their hands back from the bags and just looked at them. They were shaking, skin pale.
It was just like before.
Hyacinthe almost flew down the ladder to the ground floor with their bags and guitar, barely missing a beat when they shouldered the main door open and turned to lock it behind them. The air in the alleyway was cool and briefly felt like a blessing, but what was the next step. They looked down the small corridor that led to the canal-lined road, where they’d seen that woman get killed.
“Kai will be fine, she’s strong,” the bard muttered to themself, taking a deep breath to try and calm their nerves. “Brent. I need to make sure he knows.”
Luck and adrenaline made the trip to their dig partner’s apartment quick, and they had narrowly avoided a group of geists feasting on a corpse. Hyacinthe knew how this would play out, they’d been through it before. First, the smaller undead came through and caused havoc. They were pawns, expendable. When the city was exhausted from wave after wave of geists, ghouls, risen skeletons… That’s when the bigger monsters would come. Abominations would lumber through and crush everything in their path. Armored skeletons with glowing eyes and large swords would swarm. Was Stormwind going to be razed in lichfire like Quel’thalas had been?
The engineer almost ran into Brent’s door before pounding on it, looking down the street to make sure there were no scourge following them. Tears poured from Hyacinthe’s eyes, anxiety unable to stay dammed up and controlled. Their breath was fast, hitching with fear as they pounded on the door again.
“BRENT!” Hyacinthe shouted, voice cracking. “Please be home…!”
The door swung open just as Hyacinthe started pounding again. A hand reached out to grab the bard, and tugged them inside brusquely! Before they could say or do a thing about it, the door closed behind them.
“--Keep it down!” Brent hissed, shouting in a whispered tone. “You want to attract them all here?!”
The lights were out. Windows were boarded up and barricaded in the entryway. Quickly, he moved to re-barricade the door itself. It seemed Brent was well aware of what was happening outside. Or… did he always live like this? It was honestly hard to tell, both with how sturdy-looking the shutters were, and how well-practiced he seemed at barricading the door behind him. The front entryway of his domicile seemed rather barren. Simple crates and a small weapons rack filled with knives and swords and… a few pistols?
“Ditch anything you don’t need. Quick.” he instructed.
“Wh…?” they blinked, eyes adjusting to the darkness quickly.
Without really thinking about it, Hyacinthe set down their bags and guitar case, swallowing hard against their quick breaths in an attempt to slow it. Really, the inside of Brent’s apartment was a new place, but this wasn’t the time to be nosey. Their gaze settled on the weapons rack, then shifted to Brent again.
“Can we run? Should we run?” the bard asked almost frantically as they reached for the two sheaths attached to their guitar case, a set of vicious looking daggers pulled from them. Hyacinthe’s mind was going a mile a minute, but everything felt like it was in slow motion.
“--Of course we’re gonna run.” Brent snapped, clearly on edge, himself. “The city will be overrun in mere hours. I’m not sticking around for that again.”
With the door barricaded, he turned and strode with purpose towards another room; the doorway separating the entryway and deeper into the domicile veiled by a large, rather plain-looking drape.
“This way, quick-- bring whatever you’re taking, and leave the rest there.”
On the other side of the drapery was… another world entirely! At least, it seemed that way. The dark, warehouse-esque entrance hid a lavish interior in the main room, much better lit than the entrance. The room was reminiscent of a den in Silvermoon, with violet cloth and silver trim rather than the traditional red and gold. In lieu of any furnishings, pillows were strewn about on small platform-like mattresses-- there wasn’t an inch of the floor that didn’t look like it’d make for a comfortable seat or bed! The walls were indented in several hexagonal shelves, resembling something of an elegant honeycomb. Each shelf displayed something different; a vase, a bust, a mask, an ancient weapon on a stand… archaeological pieces, every one of them. A few had incense stands, burning lightly to fill the room with an intoxicating lavender undertone. Elsewhere on the walls were paintings, of an unusually erotic-yet-abstract nature.
None of this, save the artifacts, seemed at ALL like Brent.
As Hyacinthe entered the room, he closed a large, vault-like door behind them, and began to barricade the entrance all over again. He latched it closed, turning a large wheel to lock mechanisms on all sides. Then, as if that weren’t enough, he began placing beams in cross-pattern to further secure the doorway. Pre-cut beams and pre-sized slots… this room was designed for such security. It was a door fit for a royal vault, decorated like a royal brothel.
“Fucking Scourge… I knew we hadn’t seen the last of them.” he grumbled to himself, as he worked. “Why the fuck didn’t Kai say something?”
“She might not have known…” Hyacinthe’s statement trailed off, eyes going wide at the abrupt change in decor. For just a moment they were distracted, but the visions of Silvermoon made their heart ache anew.
The bard was sweating again, breath short and fast as they stood still. No, no it was happening again. The purples and silvers and opulence brought back the sounds of screaming from the taking of Quel’thalas, and tears welled up in Hyacinthe’s eyes. The daggers that they’d been holding clattered to the floor. It was clear that though they were physically there, mentally they were disassociating enough that Brent ceased to exist.
Hyacinthe could remember very clearly the day the attack happened. Both of their parents had gone out to help defend the city, leaving their daughter behind to hide at home. While their parents were out, Hyacinthe had barricaded themselves in their closet, curled up behind the hanging robes and other outfits in the dark. The only sounds they could hear above the clamor of battle outside was their own choking sobs.
Brent, meanwhile, frantically focused on his preparations. The room was well barricaded now with the door secure. Still, his mind wouldn't leave it. He double checked - and triple-checked - each reinforcement measure once by one, hoping for a sense of security that simply wouldn’t come. Not facing this again. By all rights, the Scourge should have killed him in Quel’Thalas all those years ago. He knew that. Since then, he always felt he was living on borrowed time. He wanted only to stave off his death as long as possible. And now that the Scourge were here again, he took no shortcut-- spared no expense-- to ensure that.
“I have enough food for two weeks, if we’re conservative about it.” he told Hyacinthe, as he began to kick a few pillows aside. “I don’t know think they’ll get through, but if they do, there’s an escape hatch that leads through--”
He blinked, as the High Elf simply… stood there. Wearing a look of shock on their face. He huffed, reaching out and plainly slapping Hyacinthe!
“--Hey! Focus!” he shouted! “You let your guard down for even a second and we’ll get eaten! You understand that?!”
The strike twisted their head to the side, but not a noise was made as they brought their hand up to their face. It did snap them back to reality, but Hyacinthe just nodded quietly before looking around again. This wasn’t Quel’thalas, and this wasn’t their closet. The current sights and smells were leaking back into the bard’s perception like the first spring rain rolling off of a roof, bringing clarity back.
“Yes, sorry. We… We won’t get eaten,” Hyacinthe’s voice cracked, the corners of their eyes still wet. When they dropped their hand, the red mark from Brent’s slap stood out bright on their pale and freckled skin. “We’ve got each other’s backs.”
Hyacinthe looked around the room, slowly becoming more animated. A little closer to the Hyacinthe Brent knew. They’d think about the sad another time. Now, blue eyes were searching for anything to help rig up traps. If the scourge got this far, the rogue wanted to get them hung up a little longer, allow them and Brent to get farther away. Managing Brent’s anxiety with over fortification would be easier than dealing with their own PTSD, at least for the moment.
“You said food, and a hatch? I’m sorry, I… Could you say it again? I’m here this time, I promise.”
Brent huffed, turning from Hyacinthe back to the clearing in the pillows he’d kicked aside. Reaching down, he tugged a section of the rug up, revealing a small floor panel with a handle set in. He tugged it up, revealing another well-secured trapdoor beneath it, boarded and bonded similarly to the larger door leading into the room.
“This’ll lead to the sewers, if we need to get out of here. There’s another door like this at the end of a long stretch of tunnel, guaranteed to be clear. For now.” he explained. “Last resort, though… we gotta hold it down here, alright?”
He closed the panel back where it was, leaving the rug and pillows disheveled on the floor around it. Instead of tidying up, he stepped over to one of the wall shelves, and opened a small jewelry box. A light shone from within it, from which Brent himself seemed to recoil.
“Come here.”
“We’ll be fine. We won’t need to run,” they nodded, more saying it to themselves than Brent.
With how fortified the room was, Hyacinthe was feeling just a bit more safe. They weren’t alone this time, and their partner was more than capable. The tension was dissipating a little bit, and it showed in their shoulders. The bard let out a slow breath, starting to realize that where Brent slapped them stung just a bit. Rude, but needed. Probably.
“What?” Hyacinthe wandered over, stepping over the piles of pillows that had been discarded to peer at the jewelry box. “Oh that’s pretty. What is it?”
“A Lightbomb.” Brent replied
He stepped back from it fully-- to give Hyacinthe a better look, or just to keep his distance, it was hard to say. The object was a glass orb, and as the name implied, it was aglow with a brilliant-yet-soothing Light which seemed to swirl within it like a liquid. It was rather calming to behold, warm to touch, but looked rather fragile as well. The box was lined with velvet padding, indented on the bottom to keep the orb from rolling around.
“Something I… found. A while back.” he half-explained further, with a shrug. “Throw it at a mass of undead, and it’ll vaporize them all. You’ll… you’ll have to do it, if the need should arise, yeah?”
He turned, stepping from the shelf to stand over beside a long bench, leaving the implication to hang in the air a moment.
“I didn’t know these were still around!” the bard shifted the box carefully to watch the swirling Light inside, visibly relaxing. Whether it was the effects of the orb itself or the distraction of the ever changing glow was unclear.
For Hyacinthe, remembering that Brent was void-touched only ever happened when they saw him from the back, the tentacles quite visible among the locks of dark hair. Curious things, dark purples and blues with an illumination that seemed to flicker like fire through them. The bard was drawn to them like a moth to flame, and it took considerable willpower to not just...reach out and touch them. As their thoughts wandered further down that path, Hyacinthe had to peel their eyes away from the orb and back into reality. Again.
“If they get in, I’ll burn them down while you open the trap door. You know I’ll watch your back, right Brent?” they offered a small smile, still not as bubbly as they once were. “And...thank you for not leaving me alone in this. I couldn’t do it without you.”
“Hmph.” Brent scoffed. “Don’t get all sentimental. You’re just lucky you showed up before I locked the doors.”
The archaeologist huffed in a show of irritation; a facade to cover his lie. He’d locked up well before Hyacinthe showed up. Painstakingly and at no small risk to his Scourge-survival plans, he’d removed the beams, unlocked the latches, and pulled Hyacinthe in without giving it too much thought. But they didn’t need to know that.
His adrenaline started dying down as he knelt beside the bench. The slip-cover pulled off easily, and the top opened up to reveal a cache of survival rations-- the same tasteless hunks of nutrients the two would take out on digs.
“Like I said, I got enough here to last two weeks, at least. So long as you don’t binge eat the whole damn stash. Control yourself, like our lives depend on it.”
That said, he withdrew a ration and unwrapped it, taking an unappealing bite out of one of the corners. He sighed, sitting with his back to the wall on the sea of pillows; the only real place the floor itself could be seen in here was where he’d uncovered the hatch. There were definitely less-comfortable places to wait out a Scourge invasion.
“Do I really look like the type to binge eat anything?” Hyacinthe poked at their own stomach, smirking. Truth be told, they could stand to eat more…
As everything was seemingly returning to normal, or at least the current normal, the bard felt themselves relax just a little. This whole room looked so….extravagant. And here they sat, pants still slightly greasy from work, shirt smudged and ripped in a couple of places, hair a mess. It was positively backwards.
Hyacinthe had so many questions. None of this fit with the Brent they had started to know, but maybe there was much more to the man than they’d anticipated? There were worse places to be, especially given the circumstances, but this… This was different. The bard looked around the room again, as if taking it in piece by piece. Their eyes scanned over everything as they looked. Hyacinthe found a comfortable place to sit, drawing their knees to their chest and wrapping their arms around them.
“Do those things taste terrible on purpose? To keep people from eating too many in one sitting? Maybe it’s to make sure people actually drink water…”
“They’re practical. All nutrients. Nothing added for taste. Extra shit like that just adds more weight to them.” he shrugged. “They’re not supposed to be treats, just energy to get you through… whatever you’re doing.”
More often than not, Brent ate these as meals. Not just on the go, or as a last resort; too often he was busy or distracted, and wouldn’t sit down to prepare a meal or seek one out. Whipping a ration out of one of his pockets was simple enough to do. He always carried at least two or three.
He motioned to a curtain-- it looked like the other curtains in the room that filled in as wall decor, but on closer inspection there was a small door behind it, easily missed unless you were looking for it.
“Water’s in barrels in the washroom, through there.” he told them. “If you’re thirsty.”
Another bite, as he rested his head back with a sigh. He’d calmed down pretty well, by now. His ear flickered at every sound, but most of them were muffled beyond hearing. Occasionally a scream could be heard, if it was high-pitched enough. Brent tried not to dwell on what was happening outside. It seemed all he could do to keep his mind off of it.
“... Fucking undead.” he grunted. “Ruined the surprise.”
“Practicality doesn’t have to taste, or feel, like a brick…” Hyacinthe muttered, but they weren’t quite keen on eating one just yet. Not after what they’d seen…
Their eyes drifted from Brent to where he’d motioned, making note of the washroom. If they were going to be stuck here for weeks, at least they wouldn’t stink. Though, their mind was drifting along with the idea of being stuck anywhere for weeks. With Brent or no, the idea of being trapped made their skin crawl. There was only so long that staring at everything would occupy their time.
“Surprise? Did you buy Kai something to smooth over her being mad about you having a new partner?” they tilted their head to the side curiously, grateful for a distraction.
"Hah…"
Brent exhaled a dry and humourless laugh, bordering on a sarcastic scoff. He shook his head.
"That's… no. Not even close. You don't really have a handle on my friendship with Kai, so it's fine. But we're not the 'get each other gifts' kind of friends."
That being said, Brent himself wasn't entirely sure what kinds of friends he and Kai'eka even were anymore. It definitely didn't feel the same as it did back before the void. And her death only seemed to drive them further apart. Like the elf herself, their friendship seemed like a hollow husk of what it was before. He sighed at the thought, before shaking his head again.
"Last gift I got her was a box of cigars. She totally missed the point of them, though. Just demanded more later on, like it was one more use she could squeeze out of me…" he huffed. "But that doesn't even matter, yeah? I thought her death was the end of it. The chapter closed up on it. But then she had to go and get raised…"
Hyacinthe nodded quickly in understanding. They hadn’t thought Kai was the type for gifts, based on the brief meetings of her. A curious lady, brash and rude but it was...interesting? Not a person the bard would have ever chosen to interact with, but not unpleasant either. Hyacinthe watched Brent’s face as he spoke, trying to glean more from his expressions to add to his words. They had a small talent at reading audiences, might as well put it to use now.
“She wasn’t done causing you grief, apparently,” they smiled, chin resting on their knees. “So what was the surprise that was ruined?”
They tilted their head to the side curiously. The mention of the surprise was a much needed distraction, and if Brent was observant enough he could tell that Hyacinthe was slowly relaxing from where they sat trying to make themselves smaller in the strange room. No, they weren’t adjusting at all, but they were less terrified. And less worried about feeling stupid about that fear.
The Ren'dorei regarded Hyacinthe a moment, seeming to read them right back. His chewing slowed, eyes narrowing-- not in conjunction with a scowl, but rather in a pensive manner. A sharp exhale out his nose, and he shook his head.
"You'll see." came the unsatisfactory reply. "Later."
Content enough where he was, he crossed his arms and leaned his head back. With the adrenaline dying down, he felt fatigue starting to set in. They were safe enough for him to lower his guard and relax… but those ears of his kept perked and twitched at every little sound. He needed sleep, but knew it wouldn't be restful. Just as well.
"Now keep quiet and still. Don't rustle around too much. You'll only draw attention." he huffed. "We're okay for now, rest while you can, in case we have to run or fight later."
Hyacinthe knew as well that neither of them would be resting, but sleeping was the best way to pass the time. It’s how they had passed the first day of the attacks when they were younger as well. Without complaint, the bard shifted around pillows until a nice little nest was made, then curled into it. They wrapped their arms around a pillow and hugged it tight, closing their eyes and trying to not think of the things they’d seen on the way over here.
Though their body settled into a sleeping rhythm after a while, Hyacinthe still looked on edge. Their dreams wouldn’t be pleasant, but there was a small measure of safety in not being alone. This deep in hiding, the sounds from outside were mostly muffled.
[ Below is a transcript of an RP between @askanarky and ol’ Jonny boy, involving Anarky’s breakout and aftermath. WIth special guest @riddlesandqueries and @echoandquery
Fuck. Shit. God dammit. Fuck, Lonnie swears to himself, couldn’t stay hidden for two days, could he?
Here he is, leaning against the wall of the dentist’s-office-turned-failed-comedy-club-turned-pirate-radio-station-slash-hideout he’d been spending the day at. Beside him’s a wooden baseball bat, blood-red paint dripping down the business end, three posters, and an overfilled olive drab backpack absolutely covered in patches and safety pins. In his hands, a box of old clothes and records.
Bitterly, Lonnie wonders how much weight he’d lost. Six and a half months was a lot longer- or maybe shorter?- than he’d fully realized.
God, why’s he even humoring the old man? Ten bucks and he could already be gone. He’d find another shitty landlord to blackmail for an equally shitty studio apartment, and life’d go on like he never left.
...But then again, that wasn’t him. And plus, he owes Jon a lot and did kinda call him ‘dad,' and plus, he couldn’t feasibly cut him out entirely unless he left Gotham for good, and why would he do that, he’s got work to continue-
”Fuck.” Lonnie mutters under his breath, shifting his weight to his other leg.
"Fuck." Jon mutters, pulling his coat in tighter. He doesn't know jack shit about hijacked radio towers, and while his car is an unremarkable, beat-up old junker that he's had for years - it runs fine, there's no noises or weird smells, but the body has seen better days - why run into a headache with traffic, gas mileage, potentially being seen at an intersection with a recently escaped convict...?
'Course, nothing could hide how tall he is. And god damn it, it's April, it's supposed to be warm....
Jonathan mutters against the cold in vague irritation, gravitating towards the next set of charity drop-off boxes in vain hopes of actually tracking down the runt. Jesus, he should've asked for directions. At least he's in good shape.
"Me an' my motherfuckin' ide--" Pause. Squint, at someone who fits the stature in a beat up black hoodie, with a box.
"....Kid?"
The good thing about oversized hoodies is that, if you’re drowning in them enough, it can almost conceal how high you jump when something calls an epithet that can apply to you. Immediately, Lonnie crouches to quickly, but gently place his box down and grab his baseball bat in his place, then raises himself up into half of a batter’s stance at the source of the-
Wait. Tall man, absolutely orange hair, in a thrift-store jacket and blue jeans. Of fucking course.
”Jesus Christ,” he half-mouths. He lets his stance relax and his arms hang limply down in an exaggerated 'I-don’t-wanna-be-here' stance. “‘Ay.” Lonnie’s stage voice is remarkable, if a bit higher than his normal growl.
Jonathan grins, a bit, despite himself. Baseball bat? Good lad.
He lifts a hand in a wave, chuckling. "Nice to see you ain't without means, boy." Jon murmurs, nodding at the weapon. "Half kickin' myself I didn't get directions when abouts I could, I been walking around back alleys all afternoon."
"Legs could use a break, and I saw a beaten-down dive up the block some, folks don't glance at your face even when you're ordering in places like that. You wanna coffee or somethin' before we ship out?"
“....” Lonnie turns away for half a second, letting a puff of air escape his clenched teeth. “Hey, you said you didn’t need them.”
Hypocritical, coming from him. He’s at least trying to be a little friendly, through the obvious voice crack and the constantly-correcting tone. “...Fine, I guess? I mean, I’ve got what...” He backs away and unzips the front pocket of the backpack on the ground. A cheap leather wallet spills out (along with six separate embroidered circle-As in various shades of crimson.) He unfolds it and squints between the pockets, “....twelve...? Dollars on me? That’s enough for, like, a sandwich.”
"Come off it kid, I got paid yesterday, you ain't gotta spend what little you got on a sandwich. Save it, s'good to have bus money." And with that Jon turns, and waves Lonnie follow him. Tall as he is, he's long ago adopted a sort of ambling gait to make it easier for other people to keep up with his long stride.
The diner is, as estimated, utterly apathetic to the arrival of both Jonathan and Lonnie, save for the motions of seating them both. No odd looks are given to Lonnie's box of things, nor -- if he brought it along -- his bat. He was half-heartedly offered the opportunity to drop it in the umbrella rack, if he wanted to.
Jon takes a booth with a high back, and turns his attention toward the menu.
Lonnie, in fact, does put his baseball bat in the umbrella rack (only in Gotham,) and swings himself up onto the booth, squishing himself into the corner and placing his box under the table. His backpack’s placed right beside him.
He’s already small- especially compared to Jonathan- but he seems determined to make himself even smaller. Lonnie hunches over the table and scrutinizes the menu with one exposed eye, rapping his free hand on the table. Jonathan receives the occasional upwards glance from him.
Coffee. And a sandwich. Jon picks both, mentally placing his order, and sets the menu down.
"...After we order, I got some things to ask, arright?" He murmurs, keeping his voice low; the staff might not care, but patrons could. Best keep mumbly.
"Dinner's on me whatever you got to say, upfront. Ain't contingent on you givin' me answers you think I'm gonna wanna hear."
(The waitress does drift by, uninterested and unimpressed, to take their orders.)
Watching the waitress approach means Lonnie didn’t have the space to answer Jon in full; Instead, he flashes a thumbs up his way.
BLT, cherry Coke. Lonnie deserved something sweet, he thought. His menu comes down after Jon’s, and he doesn’t fully turn to place his order. He does, however, have the common sense for manners; “I’d like an egg BLT and a cherry Coke, please.”
"And I'd like a tuna sub and a black coffee, please, miss. Thank you kindly."
Their orders are noted down, and she drifts on to her next engagement - and Jon leans on the table, looking Lonnie over. Where to start. "....You got a place to stay?"
“I’ll get one.” Lonnie murmurs, implying that the answer’s actually no. “Old landlord probably won’t let me back in, not like I was actually paying for my old apartment anyway...” He murmurs as he passes the saltshaker between his hands.
"...Right." Jonathan says, nodding slowly. "...If you need a place to crash a li'l while while you work him over, y'know - I got a guest room. Ain't got much more than a bed and a couple boxes and a desk, but it's dry an' the door locks."
"...And like, if puttin' out on your own for a place don't work, I don't mind if you stay, right?"
.... Hm. The saltshaker rests in his left hand.
“...You’re serious? C’mon, your job’s probably already batter-fried as is, if anyone finds out-”
Lonnie doesn’t trail off, per se, more than he just lets his throat close a little.
“...Really? You really don’t-“
He’d be an absolute idiot to decline, but there had to be some kind of catch - ? - but Jon’s not that much of a jerkass....
"Kid, much as I'm sure you could find someone whose arm you could twist for a place, it don't sit right with me to just leave you in an alley to do that. I got the room, and - well, Arkham can just deal." Jonathan’s tone is flat.
"What they don't know ain't gonna hurt my career."
Lonnie puts a fist to his rapidly-splitting mouth and exhales sharply. “‘Guess that is true,” he answers, then shakes two fingers at Jon.
“...Shit, thanks, I guess? I didn’t... really expect you to show real concern, holy shit...”
"What, you think it was just for appearances?" Jon chuckles, genial. "Naw, son, I try to actually care 'bout the folks I work with, didn't get into this business on accounta I don't care about people."
"Look, after Dinner I'll help you carry shit, since I left the car at home."
“Okay.” Lonnie doesn’t particularly feel like pushing it any more, so he doesn’t.
“...How’d I not notice this place before?” He asks, mostly to himself. Or maybe he had, and he’d forgotten about it. Was it even worth forgetting? Ech, everything was so overwhelming.
As their food and coffee comes around, Jonathan turns his attention to the rogue chat, securing something, before starting to eat. Tuna melts are truly the mac and cheese of the sandwich world, and hard to get wrong.
[ Dr_J_C ] - Hey, Eddie, you on.
[ E?Nygma ] - Yes?
[ Dr_J_C ] - You got a cab company you trust to keep their yaps shut
[ E?Nygma ] - My henchwomen.
[ Dr_J_C ] - ...Think they'd be willing to come pick up me and a runaway? Wound up cross town and the kid's got luggage
[ E?Nygma ] - Only one way to find out, really.
[ DM: E?Nygma to E&Q: Ladies? ]
[ DM E&Q to E?Nygma: [Q] You need something, Ed? ]
[ DM: E?Nygma to E&Q: Yes, if you have the time tonight. Dr Crane is asking me about securing private transit that doesn't talk too much, if you catch my drift. Since you're both the pair I trust most on the matter, I thought I'd ask if you'd be willing to go fetch him and cart him wherever he needs to go. He's not in a stabbing mood, so it shouldn't be risky. ]
[ DM E&Q to E?Nygma: [Q] Not in a stabbing mood? Color me surprised.. but sure thing, Boss!
[E] Dr. Crane requires transit? We aren’t busy, so we’ll be glad to pick him up, when needed. Anything that’s said will stay in the car, don’t you worry. ]
[ DM: E?Nygma to E&Q: Peachy. Make him buy you dinner, huh? I'll forward the address: you know what to do if he starts giving you trouble, and where to send the bill. Thanks so much. ]
[ E?Nygma ] - Good news, Jonny, they'll do it. Have an address?
[ Dr_J_C ] - Yeah, hangon....
Down town, Eighth and Tuppence. The shitty diner.
[ DM: E?Nygma to E&Q: : Eighth and Tuppence, the "shitty diner", as he put it. ]
[ E?Nygma ] - I told them to make you buy them dinner.
[ Dr_J_C ] - Yeah, sure, doesn't have to be from here. We just got our food, so - give it an hour?
[ DM: E?Nygma to E&Q: He's asked for you to come in an hour, so you have time to get ready. ]
[ E?Nygma ] - Done and done, don't leave them waiting.
Before eating, Lonnie removes the top slice of bread from each sandwich half and salts the (perfectly over-medium) egg on top, then slides the salt to the other side of the table. He almost chokes on his first bite. God, he missed real food.
"...Arkham food, huh." Jonathan chuckles, humorlessly. "Shit, every time I've gotten outta there, pizza boxes have looked appetizing."
"Eddie's henches are gonna be givin' us a ride. They ain't snitches, and I fancy our chances in one'a their cars than on foot."
“...Tall punk one n’ a short one?” Lonnie clarifies through a mouthful of BLT. Gulp. “Nice.”
“...Spent his ketchup money on Walgreens eyeliner and a burger. Should probably get online and tell ‘im once I get home, huh.” He pauses, putting down his sandwich for a second. “I told you the ketchup thing, right?”
Jonathan grins, lifting his coffee in a weird sort of salute. "Sure did. Bet you made with Eddie, right? Eyeliner and a bite's a good cause, then. He chomps down half his sandwich before turning his attention properly to coffee.
"...Good-ish news, the Asylum is pretty sure I didn't help you break out."
"So they prob'ly ain't gonna assume I came got you, neither."
“Thank god,” Lonnie comments. “Like, not just ‘cuz your job’s still safe, that’s great, but god, I didn’t spend three weeks figuring out like, 80 million people’s schedules for a friend in a high place to get the stick, it’s my damn credit.” He pauses for a sip of soda. “...Is that the right metaphor? Doesn’t matter. ‘S.... nice y’aint in that deep shit.”
Another pause. “Jesus Christ, I just said ‘y’ain’t’ in complete earnest, what the fuck are you doing to me?” Lonnie laughs, leaning his head back and pulling down one eyelid.
Jonathan barks a cheerful laugh, and even that is ignored by the utter apathy that is a back-street diner in Gotham. He shakes his head until it trickles down to a snicker and, grinning, drains the rest of his coffee before his attention returns to the perfectly adequate tuna melt.
"Naww, they had me doin' damage control, after talkin' to me a bit and nosing some at my notes. Shit, I didn't know a damn thing about your plans, and it showed, son, so oughta be fine."
"New's being shitty about it anyways, though, m'sorry about that."
“I~’m aware,” Lonnie chimes rather sardonically, waiting to swallow this time. “Eh, GCN’s a bunch of corporatist bullcrap anyway. They don’t think I’m a real dude, I know they aren’t a real news station, cancels out.” It really doesn’t cancel out, but the shrug indicates either he’s actually fine or he doesn’t particularly want to talk about it.
Jonathan slowly nods, and makes a mental tick to get a tee-shirt made inviting people to physically fight him if they want to call Lonnie a girl. That's a dadly thing to do, right?
"...So,” Jon starts, slowly, “Y'all called me dad."
Groan. “Uh, I’m sorry?” Lonnie shrugs to accompany the nonapology— not like it was worth applogizing for. “Slip of the tongue, like callin’ a teacher ‘mom,’ y’know?”
He sucks the rest of his Coke down and sets the tall plastic glass back on the table.
Jon laughs, sitting back himself and uncrossing his arms. "Dunno where all I said I was upset about it, son." His grin is lazy and easy, and he just shrugs.
"Y'all see me as a father figure?"
... Does he? ... “I mean— you’re what, two and a half times my age n I’ve seen more of you in the, what, three-ish months since you took my case than anyone else, not to mention you’re like...” Lonnie cycles through various expressions as he speaks, apparently directing his explanation at his fingernails. (Note the lack of a solid answer.)
He doesn’t mention what Jon’s like. Soon, he throws his forehead into one hand, rubbing his temples.
“I mean—- no, but also not no?”
"...So, solid maybe." Jon suggests, wiping crumbs off his hands with a chuckle. "Right, well that ain't somethin' you gotta come up with an answer to today, son. Right now, priority's makin' sure you don't get picked up by the cops two days after a breakout."
"And,” he adds, “Not leavin' you to find a half-comfortable Alley to try an' make a sleeping spot from."
“Mmh,” Lonnie affirms through his last bite of BLT (emphasis on the L.) “In my defense, I spent like... the first third’a my sophomore year doin’ that, I’ve got practice.” He jokes, sending finger-guns Jon’s way. “But yeah, let’s leave that for later, ‘kay?”
"Sounds good." Jonathan pulls out his wallet, leafing through it and leaving the bill in cash, with a generous tip. No, the bill hasn't actually arrived yet, but he's pretty good at math. Something about being a Chemist, maybe.
"Ed's girls oughta be here in a nother couple minutes, so - you wanna hit the washroom or anything 'fore we head outside?"
