May 11, 2025
@blckfckinmsk
"Oh, well, I am on antibiotics, so....I suppose I'll just have some wine."
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@blckfckinmsk
"Oh, well, I am on antibiotics, so....I suppose I'll just have some wine."
@ashortdropandasuddenstop
"Augh—"
Stolas stumbles onto a barstool. He searches, instinctively, for a menu—though he knows he's just going to order whatever red wine will get him drunker the most quickly, or perhaps even liquor straight, though that never really ever goes well...
...but when does anything ever go well, for him? He might as well lean into the chaos. The discontent.
Something else occurs to him as he makes eye contact with the bartender. It's not one of his usual servants—he is not in his home.
"Where—am I?"
OPEN.
"I am very rich, bitch."
@bludrite // hugo said: i know who you are. i know what you are.
...A VAMPIRE!
No, just kidding. He's Stolas. And while he might have the heeby-jeebies, what's really the harm in someone knowing the truth behind his disguise? As long as he looks the part, someone would simply sound like a lunatic, a freak, a demon-obsessed kook, kook, such a silly word, etc.
"Really? Now? Because, I must confess—I haven't the faintest idea who I'm speaking with." He watches hellanovellas and hell-ywood classics, darling, not the shit TV and film humans spit out these days. If Hugo's famous—if—in average households, hellborn, highborn Stolas of the Ars Goetia has no fucking clue.
@unpossession asked for: 01. [willow] brushes their fingers across [stolas'] lower back while passing by slowly.
THE DEMON PRINCE OF HELL, MASTER OF THE COSMOS, EXPERT IN HERBOLOGY AND ALSO MOST OTHER -OLOGIES YOU CAN PICK UP FROM BOOKS, IS INCREDIBLY UNCOMFORTABLE IN THIS LOS ANGELES COCKTAIL BAR.
When Stolas is not in a circle of people that included Willow, he is not talking to anybody at all. He holds a watered-down concoction of herbaceous liquor and vodka, or something, but he is so nervous about his surroundings that he actually keeps forgetting to sip.
In a trancelike state, he is startled when Willow emerges from behind him, lightly touches his lower back to indicate her presence, to remind him of—of something. He isn't sure. He feels incredibly lost.
She'd just been in the restroom down the hall, and she wanted to check on him. Is he alright?
"Oh! Quite alright, darling, quite alright."
He clinks his glass against hers with a forced, stilted sort of cheeriness.
"Don't worry about me. All of your friends are so excited to see you, I can just tell."
like for he
@unpossession asked for [stolas's reaction to receiving an intentional nude]
[ sms: Darling Willow 💜🖤 ] FUCK [ sms: Darling Willow 💜🖤 ] Are you too terribly busy up there still? At this very moment? I assume you had some time to yourself. To send something to me. Very considerate of you i must say. Can you call? [ sms: Darling Willow 💜🖤 ] Can you?
@unpossession didn't technically ask for but will receive: [chin tilt]
WILLOW WATCHES STOLAS DRY SWALLOW TWO OF HIS ANTI-ANXIETY PILLS AND STARE AT HIMSELF IN THE BATHROOM MIRROR. (Who's to say whether or not his medication—manufactured in hell—will work in the mortal realm, while he's wearing a mortal glamor? How deep does his human disguise go? Stolas ponders this.)
Stolas senses that Willow's eyes are on him, so he forces a toothy grin. With put-upon energy and flair, he whirls to face her.
He's not fooling anyone. Especially not her.
In this form—as opposed to his natural, eight foot tall demonic one—it's easier for Willow to reach up and grasp his chin. As he tilts his head down towards her, his fake-as-fuck smile fades to little more than the results of a tightly-clenched jaw.
Immediately, Willow is reassuring him that he doesn't have to go, that she'll even stay back with him, that she doesn't want to see him so anxious or upset. Stolas feels wretchedly that he compels Willow to offer such a sacrifice. They have plans, you see, to attend a networking event sure to feature movers and shakers who could help Willow with her TV show, with her career at large. And the reclusive, neurotic prince wasn't able to steel himself for the daunting event in time.
What if they hate him? What if he embarrasses her and ruins everything she has on earth? These Completely Rational concerns repeat themselves on a loop.
"Darling! Don't be ridiculous. I cannot wait to attend."