Existence

indie beelzebub from granblue fantasy/granblue fantasy VS

[versuscore]

tyraunt​:

“Is that so?” 

His tone is not mocking, but possessed of a curiosity that one might think it is almost teasing. This dance was made for the two of them, and they both knew how to play their part perfectly. To obscure and to conceal, but at the same time to make things that should be clear even more apparent. It would not do to show too much, to feel and reveal more than one should. 

And this is why they continue. Truths to be revealed when the situation calls for it. Bonds formed out of necessity, out of desire. The question would be what would desire be directed to, exactly.

Two like minded souls dancing on a bloody battlefield. Kaleb lowers his gaze back to his glass. It was not uncommon that he would lead the conversations between the two of them, and it is a thing he grew almost accustomed to. 

With a small movement of his wrist the liquid swirls, taking a moment to smell the beverage before taking a small sip. It is a moment of silence, a moment of victory. 

One where they keep to themselves, savoring every moment of it. 

“I do not indulge in such things often, but it would be unwise to not celebrate.” 

Praise worth where praise is due. The meaning of the words is not lost on him. But he would spare his ally the shame of having to go through the same motions once more. Kaleb was aware of how prideful his guest was - and that there were no needs for words. He shared the same need for superiority, that never-ending hunger. 

It was surprising that they chose to coexist instead of tearing each other’s hearts out. Respect, perhaps? Beelzebub was a threat, and Kaleb chose to keep him close. But all the while there was no disrespect. The king treated the Astral as his equal, and perhaps that was the biggest factor in such an apparently volatile relationship. 

“Perhaps you could join me next time? I certainly would not mind having someone I can trust.” 

The meaning behind his words are clear; an invitation. A formal request to have this man join him on his path to conquest. A clear notice that Kaleb would give his guest as much freedom as he wanted. 

“Of course, you are free to decline. Even though logically more samples to which you seek would be found in a place where their body and minds are focused on releasing the most amount of physical and magical energies, rather than handpicking bodies for you.”

A different type of dance. One where souls scream for release in a place where victory is the only way out. Kaleb gently lowers his glass, letting it rest on his left thigh. Right now, he is more focused on their conversation than drinking. There are different priorities now. This man cannot permanently join him, he knows this much. 

But to borrow a being with such a skilled body and a sharp mind would put him in a clear advantage on the days to come. 

“It would be a waste of your talents if I did not allow you free reign, you know of this. People talk - and they are aware of you. They fear you as much as they fear the Reaper. 

They fear you as much as they fear me. When you defy the King, death is inevitable. Death is the final destination, as I have no use for them once they cease to be. But they know your journey does not stop there. And so they talk, they whisper. What do you think our real enemy thinks about you, Beelzebub?

I offer you a chance to simply see this out for yourself. To find the answers that you so desperately seek.”

Their bodies move in unison along a twisted song. He knows the answer, but still he continues. Still he makes his intentions clear, effortlessly. Kaleb rests his head against his hand, waiting for a reply. He knows the answer, but he would rather hear it from his lips.

“And it would be an honor to have you by my side. This much should already be clear to you.”

His gaze remains keen, unimpressed. Mandatory theatrics, habits that refuse to die no matter the reality. But they are comfortable habits here; tricks of an age old trade. The king speaks of honor and implies trust, he brings choice and freedom to the table. Both of them offerings and both of them bartering chips but all of it is an appeal to his personhood. It is no far cry from what he had experienced within the land of the Astrals; there were plenty who appealed to some part of him they thought that could entice. 

There were even those who tried to force his hand and there were only two who had ever managed to. It was a refreshing change of pace for such a level of blatant honesty regardless of layered it was with such delicately honeyed words. The man is greatly content to wait, to let Kaleb make his offers. Content to watch every practiced motion, how Kaleb wishes to hear confirmation how he gives the very impression of himself waiting and open to him.

Yet Beelzebub is equally content to keep his well practiced silence and observe. While he was certainly a man of action - proactive in many of his approaches - there is a time and a place. The king must go through his lines, perform as he must, until the spotlight falls upon the other. So he waits, he waits and paints the picture of a civil man. A grateful man. Things Beelzebub is so greatly a far cry from but there is value in such performance that must be acknowledged.

Behind the wine glass, Beelzebub smiles.

Would that they both could do away with pretenses, the value of this performance is one to one with the value of his next words. Yes, Beelzebub knows of the whispers beyond castle halls. He knows how he is an anomaly in this world; something, someone that had aligned itself with the king. He’s kept himself obscure enough, research rarely requires making his presence known. requires making himself obvious. 

But the outside worlds knows of him enough; his appearance heralds something. Something ominous. Dangerous. The fear he has cultivated, the fear he will continue to cultivate. It is far from misplaced.

The cost of his research is steep but not in coin. In unrest. In populace. He is indiscriminate in amassing his materials. Whichever side is closest to him, the Astral simply plucks them from their spot after deliberation. What Kaleb offers him now is a change of materials, something only natural. Kaleb seeks an end to this long locked stalemate and Beelzebub’s research treads the path of ending immortals in this world.

What better way to coincide their goals than to actively work upon the enemy of the crown? What better way for the king to see those results first hand? They both will get what they desire, some just get those things a little faster than the other.

The glass drifts away, held far more gently than and with care more care than much else he’d had his hands on these days. the very tips of his claws barely making a sound as they tap in gentle amusement. Small gestures to show just how much of his attention Kaleb’s brought to him and his offer, what sort of reaction Beelzebub was willing to give away.

“You have a great tendency to makes offers that are hard to turn down.”

There is nothing insidious implied in those words, no if anything he allows them to be tinged just so with delight. It is true that offer is hard to turn down, but its not as if Kaleb had painted the Astral into a figurative corner. On the contrary he’d been quite open with it.

And that was something in his favor, something the Astral would keep in mind for days to come. Freedom of choice is a powerful thing, a thing he greatly keeps close to him.

They continue to play around with their words and actions, he knows how Kaleb wishes to hear the words for himself. The most he does at first is take another sip of wine, his smile never fading. It would say enough for him in any other circumstance but if Kaleb asks for an answer then who is he to deny him that.

“But it is wise of you to make better use of my presence and power.”

Pride colors his words but there is truth to them. The king has given him free reign yes, but in doing so Beelzebub’s studies have been greatly self contained. The potential of someone like him - the Astral singularity -  was vast, much of his powers may be limited now but he would remedy that problem soon enough. It would behoove his benefactor to know just how much he can lend his aid now, and how much more he can offer later.

A relationship of give and take, built upon warped trust.

And oh how much Beelzebub had to give to a man he deemed worthy of it and Kaleb had yet to show him he was far from it.

“To the point of the matter, there is no benefit to declining such a gracious invitation.”

“You will find that you could not have made a better choice, this I promise you.”

[vyragosa]

“an endless stream of adversaries stretching on into seemingly infinite time.”

"oh? that sounds an awful lot like hell.”

"perhaps.”

[tyraunt]

@versuscore​ : ❝ Let’s have a toast. To the incompetence of our enemies. ❞ [from this meme here]

Kaleb would be lying if he said he was not pleased with the events of today. Suppressing a group of rioters on the far edge of the continent was not an easy task - and if the ruler of these lands himself deigns it so important that he should ride to such an isolated place - one should know how severe the situation was. And the consequences of it. 

“I did not expect you would join me in battle. You much did prefer being left to your own devices, or to simply experiment with things yourself. 

Not that I am averse to your methods. It was simply unusual.”

The smile surfaces on delicate lips, both of them now back at Kaleb’s castle. It had been a tiring campaign, but certainly improved by such an unexpected company. Beelzebub simply seemed ready to depart when the King was, without offering much of an explanation or reason. At the time, it was not important. Kaleb would simply get the answers to his questions when they were both back home. The Astral had his reasons to be there, and Kaleb knew better than to pry. As long as it did not endanger him, it would be fine. 

Their silent contract said as much. As long as help was offered, the man could proceed with his experiments and research however he pleased. Perhaps he simply desired to observe the bodies? Test their capabilities of regeneration?

One thing seemed to burn in the deepest parts of his mind: the wild smile he had seen when this beast set itself free on the battlefield. The way Beelzebub’s lips curled into a smile that could only be described as pure joy. A feeling Kaleb knew too well. The thrill of battle, and how it soothes a heart that so craves for destruction. But this scene seemed to refuse to leave his mind, more now that Beelzebub’s expression returned to an unknowable blank stare. Still, he was aware. 

Of both the secrets concealed behind that façade. Of the shared mask both of them had decided to wear. Speaking of smiles, one gently forms on his lips. Uncharacteristic for a King, he is the one pouring wine into two glasses… gently handing one of them over, fingers gently blushed against clawed hands. His smile seems to broaden just slightly. Almost imperceptible. But perhaps he is giving away much of his interest in this man.

“But thanks to you, things proceeded smoothly. So let us have a toast. To you. To the incompetence of our enemies.”

He raises his glass, expecting his guest to do the same. It would be a lie to say he was not satisfied with this outcome. Again, he would have to drag out the answers to his much needed questions later. There would be enough time for this. They both had more than enough time to savor the taste of conquest. Of overwhelming victory. 

“To the first of many hopeful celebrations like this.”

[versuscore]

“It was an opportunity that I would have been a fool to let slip through my fingers.”

He speaks with appropriate honesty to the implied question, but only speaks enough of the truth behind his actions. It is a game he’s used to playing even behind closed doors; the favored pastime of nobility is obscuring intentions in plain statements and off hand praise. One of which while grating with others, is far more pleasant with the king before him.

The campaign had been useful; an outlet for pent up frustrations that gnawed away at his sore pride. But most importantly it was information. That long buried researcher he used to be had begun to resurface in this foreign world, this foreign world who’s authority had so refused to chain his studies down. The limitations within Astral society placed upon those who conducted research of any kind were stifling in comparison; moral and ethical codes he’d so happily shed.

He has seen before - confirmed it now- how the chaos matter that slew an immortal once did not work within this realm. He’s felt the challenge presented by this worlds inhabitants, how they refused to bend and break under his blows. How he would simply have to return to the battlefield again, how he would have to find the perfect subjects to gather more data.

Perhaps, in his words there is implication of his own: that his presence by Kaleb’s side will not be a singular event, that perhaps Beelzebub will be far more present within his life than either might have intended in the first place.

But those implications will never be put to words here, not now in the passing of drink and subdued reverie. 

Their fingers brush, deceivingly and contrastingly pristine in intentions. Beelzebub does not shy from it, does not let his composure shake for an instant. He had shown enough of himself this day; he’d shown the side of him that reveled in warfare. A display only to someone he’d felt an inkling of kinship with: the man handing him the glass with gentle grace. A man just as drenched in blood and war. A man who did not shy away from it. 

A man who indulged in it.

A far cry from those who the Astral used to be surrounded by. A far cry from the conspirators he used to keep company with. All reasons for him to reveal just what Kaleb had let within his home. It is a game of trust, each other them showing only the slightest peak of their hand. With every small reveal they simply had to wait to see what came of it.

And Beelzebub is far from disappointed to see what has come from today.

While he does not permit himself to smile so openly, he permits himself this indulgence of a celebration. So the glass is raised, the toast is had. In the gesture is more than enough words, more than enough in implication that the men do not truly need to say much more. Briefly, Beelzebub considers keeping any further words to himself on the matter.

“To many more.”

But he is a man who swells with pride, a man who basks in victories. The words he chooses are filled with a sense of finality. That there is no argument that they will fail; that he would not hear it if one tried.

[leeyit]

Doodle

[versuscore]

[versuscore]

[edo-sama]

a colored pencil sketch of Bubs and Belial singing together because I like imagining they’d sound awesome