The Fucking What Now, Blitz Wondered? Whatever A Lie Brary Was, He Was Pretty Sure He Didn't Want Any

The fucking what now, Blitz wondered? Whatever a Lie Brary was, he was pretty sure he didn't want any part of that. Some kind of weird fuckin' kink. Shit, he didn't even know this woman--although he did have a vague memory of drunkenly scrawling on her wall, he admitted to himself, so he should probably make up for that... Yeah. Shit. Yeah. Time to go to the Library. Or Lie Brary. Whatever. Fuck.

It was a few days before Blitz actually got his shit together. Sore from a job gone south, he was feeling too off his game to work--which made for a perfect excuse to go look for some stranger he had apparently harassed. Dressed casually, in black slacks and a comfortable black t-shirt, he had a backpack over one shoulder, a splint on his left arm, and bandages wrapped around his head. Still, despite not feeling or looking like himself, Blitz was in good spirits as he tromped on down to--

Oh.

Oh.

Yeah. This was a book building.

The shit in his backpack--it sure as shit wasn't for this.

He walked in, eyes slowly widening, and looked around with--doubt. A lot of doubt. Whoever this woman was that he had bothered, she was probably educated, which meant she would use words he would never understand and the second she saw him try to spell anything significant--yeah. Yeah. Nope. Time to go.

Blitz turned to hurry out--and almost knocked someone over when he did.

"Shit, fuck. I'm sorry! You good? I'm sorry."

“…thank you??? I mean that genuinely, I’m very flattered, I’m just also confused. Lil’ forward of ya to add X’s and O’s to a letta first thing, but I can’ pretend it’s not a fun lil’ surprise. Sure, uh…Blitzø, is it? Come by the library sometime, and I’m sure we could set somethin’ up.”

The Goetia's eyes were black, rich and deep and dark enough that all light seemed to flow into them, as if it was made only to be lost into those dangerous depths. All the same, when he smiled it seemed sincere enough. He looked Angel up and down, made a soft little clicking sound--one Angel would doubtless recognize as an assessment followed by disappointment and judgement--before he looked to the imp with him.

"I recognize you, Blitz. I've seen you quite often, at Lacerate. It's an honor to see you here as well. If you would ever enjoy a private tour? Find me at either of my offices; it will be my pleasure to show you around." Before the imp could answer, the tall, shimmering Goetia laid a hand on his shoulder, leaned down, and whispered something to him--

And Blitz's expression went entirely blank. For a moment there, he might have been a doll, he was so inanimate. Tears came to his eyes--and he snapped out of it. Blitz shook himself, pulled free of Vepar, and looked up at him with a furious, heartbroken, desperate sort of defiance. For a moment, he looked like he was going to snap at him, to say something really, really fucking stupid--but he couldn't do it. Instead, he hesitated--

And nodded.

"Thanks," he said quietly, frowning. "For--all of it. Thanks."

Vepar touched a hand to his chest. "My pleasure. It is always a joy to see one within whom wonder and joy remain. Have a wonderful visit, Blitz." He bowed his head ever so slightly to the imp, then glided off, moving smoothly as he disappeared into the crowd.

Blitz fought the urge to watch him go, struggling to come back to himself. Finally, after shaking himself again, he looked back up at Angel. "Uh... fuck. Where were we? What uh--you wanna go, say fuck this place? What do you like to do?"

Other kid? There was another kid!? Angel knew he shouldn't be panicked - this was a fucking first date, it wasn't like they were exchanging vows. But there would always be the thought that kids would be brought into his life - even if the kids were older. And Angel wasn't exactly the best role model, was he? Things that he was aimlessly thinking about, as the imp ran from tank to tank.

Angel wasn't all that amused, if only because these were naturally things he had seen before plenty of times. Some of them were pretty, though he found it amusing that a Hell-quarium would have the most boring of fish. His eyes did light up a bit seeing things like florescent jellyfish or angelfish - fish they didn't have in the Hudson. Though the enthusiasm certainly didn't match that of Blitz. If anything, his own joy came from simply watching how excited the other got.

At the other's comment, Angel was opening his mouth to speak, until he heard the other voice interrupting. His eyebrow raised, spinning to look at the bird-like male, upper set of arms crossed over his chest. Unlike Blitz, he didn't have any real interactions with the Ars Goetia, and hardly gave a fuck that they were royalty. "...do yeh' just happen t' always be hidin' in th' shadows waitin' f' people t' mention yeh'?" It had seemed awfully odd that the man would suddenly appear, as if being summoned.

Wait, could Ars Goetia be summoned? Fuck if he knew.

Blitz seemed way more tense than he did for reasons that Angel didn't fully understand, one of his lower hands grabbing at the imps, feeling how warm he was. He couldn't help but to snort in amusement at Blitz' absolutely crass commentary, squeezing his hand to silently tell him to behave, before Angel shrugged. "That's what we were doin', before yeh' showed up." He hummed, though he waved his one free hand.

"Though gotta say, they ain't much of sights if yeh' tryin' t' appeal t' sinners, too. Trout and salmon are things yeh' see more on th' dinner table than in an exhibit." He was being a bit sassy, but. "Now if yeh'll excuse us, we were kind of in th' middle a' somethin'."

for @toranoya continued from here, because St Peter apparently decided that today is the day to absolutely wreck Blitz's shit, and I am cackling, I love it

-

"Oh, you... um..." Blitz's eyes widened and he took a small step back as Peter approached, saying those things. What had started off as something fun and ridiculous had suddenly morphed into something the imp was in no way prepared for, as a new concept crashed down upon him like a ton of bricks.

Peter watched him? Knew him? Was paying attention--to him? Why? Wasn't his job to watch over humans, people who actually had souls, whose choices meant something? Wasn't he supposed to just gatekeep the Sinners and the Winners, and not care about anything else? Wasn't that what Heaven did? The imp's eyes had somehow managed to get wider still, because the thought that anyone, anyone up top was actually paying attention not just to imps, but to him? That was breaking open a lot of things inside, cracking walls Blitz had so carefully constructed, shining light into dark places he had tried so hard to forget.

Panicking, heart breaking in ways he didn't understand, eyes burning with tears he refused to allow to fall, Blitz nonetheless managed (finally) to put on a smarmy grin, step close, and walk his fingertips slowly up Peter's chest.

"Hey, babe, if you're into watching me... Can't say I blame you. Everybody needs a little distraction now and then, and I'm good at distracting."

This was good. This was better. Better to play at filth than to admit, even to himself, that Peter's dangerous words had just lit the fuse on a kind of yearning Blitz had never known, couldn't possibly understand, and didn't possess the tools to handle. The caring of Heaven had never once been on the table for him. Caring from anyone was relatively new to him, something he was only recently letting himself begin to learn. But that question--he had to believe Peter was lying, fucking with him, that the guy really didn't know anything about his life, and definitely didn't care. Because the alternative?

The alternative might break everything.

This isn't a negotiation. Those words got through, resonated. Blitz's eyes widened as he listened, finally really listened, and understood that Stolas didn't need to be protected right now. Right now, Stolas was doing the protecting. This man loved him. Words meant everything, but the actions? The fact that he realized how determined Stolas really was? That meant more.

"Yeah. Let's stop at my place when you're done here," he said, still a little mystified, before he snapped out of it and hurried to help Stolas pack.

-

Their brief time at Blitz's apartment felt strange, like something out of a dream. Knowing it might be the last time, knowing he might never see anything familiar ever again, that he might not see Loona again, that he might never smell the smells of his kitchen or curl up on his couch--

It was hard to say goodbye, so fucking hard, but there wasn't any time. Blitz left a note for his daughter--Loona was fully an adult, and rarely ever here anyway--explaining that he had to go, and with some information about how to pay the utility bills. He wanted to shower, but had to hope there would be an option to do that in... wherever they were going. He didn't know, and maybe it didn't matter, because he would be with Stolas.

The cold, sick feeling in Blitz's stomach never eased. He had killed someone when he didn't mean to. He didn't know how, didn't know why, didn't fucking remember. He loved killing--but not like this. Not like this.

Vepar's body, cold and lifeless, was so similar to Stolas's...

Don't think about it. Just pack.

Duffel stuffed full, the strap over his shoulder, he took one last look at his home--then stepped over to Stolas and nodded, holding out his hand.

Blitz couldn't say anything, couldn't speak at the moment, so he just hoped the truth showed in his eyes: I trust you. I'm with you. Thank you.

Somewhere along the way, the love confession had turned into a nightmare, surely he was dreaming and would wake soon? How could Stolas be given everything he had wanted to hear, only for it to be overshadowed by Blitz’s insistence that he, what? Turn Blitz in? That was beyond question. Morally, perhaps it was the correct option but he never claimed to moral, never claimed to be good.

Stolas had played by the book his entire life. He did as he was told, lived the life that was never his choice, he had given everything of himself to his station, to his father and he would no longer stand for it. He was allowed to be selfish for once, to take instead of give. Well, he wanted Blitz and he didn’t care how he got him, as long as he would stay and they could be happy. Truly happy. Happier than Stolas had ever been in his isolated life.

Running away together was romantic, it was thrilling. He didn’t care about the consequences. He was going to be selfish for once in his goddamn life, even if the imp said otherwise. He had finally found love, after 35 years of abuse and neglect, Heaven be damned if he would let that go.

“You don’t understand Blitz. This isn’t a negotiation. We are leaving together until this is sorted out. I am not losing you again. I am not going to be alone again. If you love me as you say you do, you will fight with me. You will fight for us. I am not losing the only man I have ever loved.” Will ever love.

“Now, do you need anything from home? We must be quick.” Stolas opened a pocket dimension and began to place things inside like toiletries and clothing. He was going to leave with Blitz whether the imp wanted him to or not.

[introduces Blitz to miniature horses]

"What the fuck? Who-- are you--what are you, like, jelly bean horses?" he asked the first miniature horse to approach him. When the animal looked alarmed and bolted away, Blitz stood up straight and put his hands on his hips.

"Hey! I was talking to you! How come none of you are talking? How come... wait..." Eyes widening, he turned to look around the pasture. It was true. Not a single one of these horses had anything to say. They were just...

They were...

Animals?

"No," he whispered. "No, no. No, no..." Horses weren't animals! They were people! Every soap he watched made that obvious! Horses were people, they were--they were--fuck! Horrified, Blitz leapt over the fence--and fell facefirst off the other side of it, landing in a pile of manure. He pushed himself upright, spitting and gagging. "Ugh, shit, fuck. What the fuck, what kind of fucked up dimension is this? This--"

Something snorted near him. Warm, moist breath blew across his neck.

Blitz went very, very still. For a long moment, he didn't look up, but the fascination proved to be too much. Slowly, he turned his head up--oh, yeah. Fuck. Exactly what he thought it might be. A bull.

The bull snorted and pawed the ground.

Smiling, Blitz got to his feet. "Heyyyy, uh. Nice doggie. Listen, can you understand me? Because those tiny fucking horses ca--AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN'T!" His scream continued as he flew across the farmyard, finally crashing through the roof of a barn.

When he landed amidst a group of hens, Blitz rubbed the crystal for all he was worth and dove through.

Fuck. Since when were horses animals??

"Anything. It's on my dime, not coming out of your pay, so order from someplace nice, get yourself a few courses." Vox held his phone out, then floated it over to Angel on a little spark of energy. "I'm going to step outside. Don't feel rushed. When you're done ordering, you can slide my phone under the door." Brushing his hands over himself, Vox smoothed his clothes a bit, then put on a smile--which quite literally made his screen brighten.

"And hey, if you'd ever like to join me, feel free. My suite is--no offense, but a nicer place to have dinner than this. I don't even have to be there, you're welcome to use the table, the kitchen. Eat off real plates rather than out of the delivery dishes. You're better than that." He put a hand on the doorknob, about to step out, but stopped himself and looked over his shoulder.

"You know, Angel, when you raise your chin and let your eyes blaze? I don't think there's a soul in Hell who looks more beautiful or defiant. Even if it feels like he's snuffing the light and life out of you, it's in there. Burning."

Vox stepped out and shut the door behind himself, then just waited outside, content to stand there until Angel gave him back his phone. The man had given him a lot to think about--specifically After Care. That wasn't something Vox understood. The reference felt important though, and so as he stood there, he began accessing the internet archives through his wifi, thoughts turned inward, learning...

It didn't take long before he learned too much. Frowning, he folded his arms and leaned against the wall, looking up vaguely at the ceiling.

He had a lot to learn, if he was going to be there for Angel. A lot. And ideas, ideas were brewing...

Angel listened intently to everything that Vox was saying, though he was still struggling to recognize if he believed it or not. Trust was something that had been completely destroyed by Valentino, and he was so terrified that he would fall for someone's lies all over again. Better to only be there for himself, to fight his own battles, to tackle his own demons. That's what prevented hurt.

But fuck, if Angel wasn't such a people person. It was why he had always been driven to the limelight in the first place. Why he had found his place as Hell's hottest celebrity. He liked the attention, the validation, the flattery. Val knew it, too. Val had used that so damn easily against him. Vox wasn't offering any of that, wasn't offering anything bad. Just some conversation, a place for Angel to be heard for once.

Though he had so many questions, he didn't know if he was prepared to ask them. Or if Vox would even give answers. But the thing that had pushed him to be able to trust Vox, even a little at this moment, was that admittance of jealousy. It took putting aside one's pride and ego to be able to say such a thing, and if there was something he did know about Vox, it was that the Overlord valued his pride and ego.

Hand clenching more at his robe, Angel let out a small laugh. Dry, not full of the normal vigor and energy that was completely Angel Dust, but still there. "Can't be part a' th' Vees if mah' name ain't start wit' V. Ah' ain't Vangel Dust." He teased, eyes flickering towards the other. He knew what Vox meant. He had lived in the tower so long, up until Charlie had given him that saving grace of an outlet. He'd been there almost as long as Val had been, honestly. The first star of the pimp's new studio.

He's staring for another few moments, deciding to sigh and move over to the plush couch in the middle of the room, flopping onto it as if even standing took energy at this point. "Ah' ain't neva' had after care from anyone. Don't really expect it, yeh' know?" He's rubbing at his wrists now, not even acknowledging that he's doing it, noting where the bondage ropes from earlier were just a little too tight.

"Don't think ah' wanna talk about it." He's shrugging, bringing his knees up to his chest, arms curling around them as his chin rested atop them, glancing to the television demon. "But ah' ain't ate all night." And if Vox knew, Valentino had worked him an almost 24 hour shift at that point, as punishment for Charlie showing up. "So ah'd be a fuckin' idiot t' say no tah' some free food." A soft smile. "...can ah' order anythin' ah' want? Stromboli is sort of a...comfort food. Or pasta fagioli."