#skewedlogic

[heedingcalls]

@skewed-logic​ asked :

[ Devil @ Dice: ] "What's this I hear about you wanting to know me outside of work? Don't you get enough of me while you're on the clock?"

A pause. Devil had remembered himself. "Do correct me if this is just hearsay. You can forget I said anything." On the other hand, if it was just hearsay, Devil would've taken his rumor with a grain of salt. But the problem is... he'd definitely noticed the signs for himself too; that Dice might want something else out of their relationship. ( What that 'something' was was still a little vague to him, though. )

   What. The. Fuuuuuck....? 

      He knows this question is ignorant in the fact he is acquaintance of the Literal Devil -- but if there is a God, does he take joy in watching King Dice squirm? Is Dice meant to be the butt of every fucking jape? What caused this? WHO said this...? Dice ought to wring their fucking neck for putting him in such a position of awkwardness. The Universe surely was against him.

    His cubed head beads lightly with sweat and the casino manager’s fists tighten at his side before anxiously wiping at the front of his jacket. He fidgets with his buttons as well, sliding them in and out of the buttonholes in a clear display of clumsy tension. He forces a laugh, trying to be stoic on the matter that has just been forced. It’s not that it isn’t true. IT IS. But why are they talking about it now? Like this?

   ❛  Who could fault a guy for wantin’ to get a drink every so often, Boss? I figured it was ... normal. And we’ve worked together for such awhile.... ❜  And he wants to experience Devil differently. OUTSIDE of the circumstances of the casino and soul reaping. He was the person Dice saw the most of. Why wouldn’t he want to get to know Devil more? Did that not sound like a perfectly sound idea?

   ❛ Who-- Where-- .... I apologize you didn’t hear that directly from me. ....Do you REMEMBER where that talk came from? By chance, sir? ❜

[heedingcalls]

@skewed-logic​ asked :

[ Devil @ Dice: ] Gets a bit closer than strictly necessary, squinting at something by Dice’s neck. He then reaches forth with both paws and carefully straightens his bow tie. “Much better.”

   Gloved fingers pull and guide the fabric of his bowtie into the makings of a bow as King Dice looks to himself in a nearby mirror. He liked to look put together, classy. There’s his BRAND at stake, after all. Just because he didn’t run an actual show anymore didn’t reason for an excuse to look less than. So he always attempted to be at his best, dressed to the nines whenever possible. No one could spot a weakness when his surface was so pristine and shiny.

     This ritual is interrupted as the other approaches, however. He turns towards Devil with a grand smile, ever the charmer. Before Dice can get a word in edgewise the other has closed more distance between them and it causes Dice to almost jump back in surprise. His eyebrows shoot upward and his body goes a bit rigid in response as Devil reaches for his neck. He feels a lump in his throat and his hands almost jump upwards to reach for the Devil’s arms, fingers instead barely brushing against his elbows. But his touch retreats just as soon as he engaged, pulling back to Dice’s own sides.

    An awkward smile takes to King’s lips and a hint of a purple hue goes over his flat face in a blush. ❛  Heh. Tha--Thanks, Boss.❜

[heedingcalls]

@skewed-logic​ asked :

[ Devil @ Dice: ] Stands, silent and brooding by his side. He’d walked up ten minutes ago but not said a damn word, though he stole side glances at King when he felt the other wasn’t looking. Suddenly, he sighed, wet his lips and opened his mouth as if to speak. …But no sound came out.

He tried again. Conjuring his cigar box, he opened it, took one for himself, then levitated it towards King in silent offering. When King didn’t immediately take one, he nudged him gently with the box.

“Take one.” Devil’s acting odd. Something else was clearly on his mind.

     Gaze affixed downwards, peering down at a scattered pile of documents. Complaints. Bills. For fuck sake. You’d think running a business for the Devil himself would deprive one of such asinine details. But, alas. Not even the Devil’s actual playground is free from the likes of that. And it’s King Dice’s due diligence to sort it all out or threaten those that could be threatened into a less annoying headspace.

   He feels the presence of the other near him as he clicks at his calculator and grumbles about Wheezy and Chips and, ugh, Hopus. Those three alone were enough to make him wish to rip out his figurative hair. But Devil says nothing for .... awhile. Instead there’s an air of uncomfortable silence. Dice lifts his eyes a few times but then shoots them down quickly. Be productive. Be useful. Prove yourself. That’s what he strives for.

   He doesn’t notice the cigar box the first time but when he nudges it closer and against his arm, the dice blinks confusedly. He sets his pen aside and pushes it all away a pivots. King looks to the box again and with Devil’s urging, he deftly selects one. He looks to the cigar in his hand and taps the foot of it with his finger before twirling the thick stump in his fingers. He then quietly looks to the Devil and gives a little nod of thanks before finally voicing it.

       ❛ -- ...Thank you. ❜

[heedingcalls]

@skewed-logic​ asked :

[ Devil, @ Dice ]: Stomps up to him and shoves a crisp stack of 20, freshly conjured $100 bills into his hands. He doesn’t look happy about it, but true to his word he’s following through on what he promised Lola. “Take this, and quit sniveling to strangers that I don’t pay you enough.” How’s that for being nicer to him, eh? All things considered, Devil was practically being an anointed saint right now, despite how irritated and emotionally confused he is after that conversation he had with Lola earlier.

“Also, you can expect a $7.50 raise on your next paycheck. Don’t ask me why. Just shut up, continue to do your job, and enjoy your fucking money I guess.” He huffed smoke at this, rolled his eyes, and stormed back from whence he came before Dice could possibly hope to respond. How humiliating.

     Well. Alright, then.

     He didn’t even get a chance to say ‘HEY BOSS’ before the other bombarded him with cash. King even struggled to grapple for it and keep it in his grasp because of the suddenness of it all. His gaze drops down to the bills in his hands and then back up to Devil hastily. What? Why? Oh--

     That sneaky critter of a woman. She did it. How did she manage it? What sort of spell did Lola have over Devil where she could make THIS happen? And was... she the ONLY reason this happened? Was anything he did not worth the attention or praise unless the bunny pointed it out? Is money ALL Devil thought he wanted? ...Huh. You know what? He’s gonna put a pin in those thoughts. That’s too much and his brain was running on empty.

     No words are thrown in edgewise and before he can even utter a tiny ‘thanks’ after his boss, the Devil is gone. King Dice looks back to the bundle of cash in his hands and blinks again, totally taken aback. ....And then another thought enters his mind.

     ❛ That Bunny’s got me out 100 bucks.....❜

[heedingcalls]

@skewed-logic​ asked:

[ Devil @ Dice ( abt Lola, ofc ) ]: "She's with me. Do see to it she doesn't lose more than she can afford." Devil's voice is a low hiss as he stood at Dice's side; only Dice could possibly hope to hear him above the clamor and commotion that bled into the pit. He trusted Dice would catch his drift.

   There’s something about the way that voice slithers into his ear that tells Dice everything he needs to know. It wasn’t often that his boss picked....favorites. Actually... Come to think of it, King isn’t positive the Devil has HAD a favorite like this before. Sure. Lackeys he’s taken a shine to were one thing. As an example, King Dice’s own situation. But this... this is different. He can tell. Everyone’s soul was free game. Why not this one?

     His eyes flutter questionably, brows shooting upwards. What does this MEAN? What does this little lady have that made the Devil himself concerned? Or protective? Is that what it was? Did he genuinely, actually, have a soft spot for some floppy eared rando? And King Dice himself was being ordered to nanny because of it? Surely this is an insult to his intelligence. His capabilities. 

             -- But when Boss said JUMP....

      He claps his gloved hands together excitedly and rubs them in a casual flair of showmanship, King turns to the Devil and brandishes a wide smile and shrugs his shoulders casually. One arm even dares to throw itself around the other’s shoulders and he chuckles. Babysitting? No. Big. Deal.

     ❛  C’moooon! Look at who you’re talkin’ to! I’ll keep the little puff ball safe. You got NOTHIN’-- NADA. Not a thing to worry about, Big D! She’ll have fun and I’ll make sure not even a tuft of her cotton tail is out of place.❜

[heedingcalls]

@skewed-logic​ asked:

[ Devil @ Steelbeak: ] "Would it sweeten the deal if you could reap the soul of the person who did that to you?"

    Steelbeak gives a thoughtful tap to his metal appendage, brow furrowing at this inquiry. It’s been so long. He could barely remember a time when he didn’t look like this. But the memory of the pain of his battered and broken beak still plagues him on an almost daily basis. Most of it was gone, removed and unable to be saved. But there was still some of it. Only just a bit. And some days, he awoke and the pain was as fresh as the day his face got battered in... 

    Yeah. He’d like some right justice. He deserved it, didn’t he? 

   The rooster looks to the Devil and offers up a casual shrug. This deal is soundin’ pretty good. But he’s not fully sold yet. He needs ALL the details first.

   ❛  I mean, OBVIOUSLY, Scratch. If I had the accessibility or the TIME, that guy would be mincemeat by now. Ya know? ... I sometimes think about what would happen if I took that mook by the shoulders and forced his face through a pasta strainer, though. Tit for tat, face for face. It’d only be fair.... ❜  Cream, feathered fingers caress over the bolted metal of his beak and he hums. The guy’s gotta point or at least an intriguing idea. Steelbeak would like to deliver some form of comeuppance, if he could. But how would he do so?

   ❛  -- You had my curiosity, pal. But my attention is now piqued entirely. So, tell me... what’cha got in mind?❜

[heedingcalls]

@skewed-logic​ asked :  [ Devil @ Dice: ] “Looking dapper tonight, King.” What’s got the Devil in such a fine mood?

    There’s merely a second of pause in response to that comment, Dice’s eyes blowing wide in surprise. It isn’t as if compliments are an unknown to him. LOOK AT HIM! He was THE dice about the Isle, wasn’t he? A show runner AND a casino manager? He’s certainly not lacking in the dedicated fanbase department. But to hear something positive from the Devil? That wasn’t hand in hand with his soul count numbers or about business? That was worth the brief shock he displayed.

      But the entrepreneur smooths over this conversational bump as if it is nonexistent. If he makes a big deal, it’s likely the praise will be more withholding come later. A crooked smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and he offers up a nonchalant shrug. Trying perhaps a little TOO hard to be coy on the matter.

      ❛  -- Thanks a plenty, Boss! I made sure my suit was pressed and my wingtips were shoes were shined for today. Gotta set a GOOD impression for all of the saps we’ll be soul reapin’, riiiiiiiight? ❜  He chuckles to himself and, despite how silly he may appear, Dice does a small spin where he stands to give a 360 view of his primped and perfect person. 

                  Yep. What a show off. 

      But as he rounds about, dark hues take a closer look to his employer and his brows raise ever so slightly. Something.... was off on his boss’ presentation. A gloved hand points toward the Devil with a finger, like that alone will tell him what is throwing him for a loop’. His dice head cocks slightly to the left and he gives Ol’ Scratch a perusal look up and down before it hits him. Oh! 

     ❛  .... Did you do somethin’ with your fuzz, Big D? It looks... different. ❜

[nightmaresindreamland]

[Devil @ nm]: Strolls into the place using his trident like a walking stick. The set of his face is bored as he strikes an arrogant, unaffected pose a respectful distance away. "I love what you've done with the place. Not many demons can say they've replicated Hell on the mortal plane. Bravo."

There was this old book his researchers found. One of many with water damaged pages and frosted-over ink. It described a place of worship, a place of fear, and a place where mortals would be sent if they were evil, deserving of punishment, or wrong in the eyes of the author.

Nightmare did not believe it was real, because he knew the gods of the afterlife, the afterlife itself, and it was nothing like that. Not that he remembered any part of being dead, but he just knew it was wrong because he had his own opinions.

He thought this place could become real, though. Maybe if it was, the souls of humans would congregate there, being tricked into thinking they were supposed to come there instead of... Wherever they were sent instead.

It was a work in progress, and what CS would call a 'waste of time, money, resources, and patience.' The project was discontinued shortly after its creation and left that way for multiple years, in a private sect of the fortress.

In the time Nightmare had to himself recently, though, he wanted to reconnect with something. Something, anything, perhaps just to keep his mind busy while he felt his existence rotted. He'd brought his own decorative flair to the torture cells and pits of despair he'd dimly recalled.

If a human were there, they'd be confused by the departure from the text, but still convinced they'd landed exactly where their sins bring people.

It's an empty, large room. Ticking clocks, bubbling lava, cracking obsidian. It has no other purpose, because Nightmare has no use for it outside as decoration. Its heat proposed a sauna-like experience, but there was that hint of grief in the entire process creating the damn thing that soured the experience.

So color him surprised when his original plan worked, and something, someone, was brought here, invited by the scent of hellfire and sulfur.

Nightmare looms over the small thing, taking in exactly what he was seeing. Horns, claws, dark colors... Perhaps, was this one of Earth's old animals? Perhaps. Its arms and legs look so flimsy. It looks flimsy. Not just physically, but attitude-wise as well. There would be no pain from this.

"This area is restricted," his voice is hollow, "state your business and how you know of this place's name."