They Have The Same Energy Really I Think We're On To Something With This Crossover Guys--- @botanikos

they have the same energy really i think we're on to something with this crossover guys--- @botanikos @doublejango

While he was working anywhere else in Vee Tower, or even just walking from one public space to another, Vox always strived for perfection, to put out exactly the right image and energy at exactly the right time. He was always aware of his image, aware that anyone could be watching, and that everyone’s eyes, down to the tiniest messenger imp’s, were still eyes. If he was anywhere but in their living quarters, Vox was always On.

But when he wasn’t in what he considered to be the public eye? When he just wanted to enjoy a quiet evening of… well, of more work, sure, but a quiet evening? And this happened?

He looked up from the ledger he’d been writing in, holding the large book open on his lap, curled up in the corner of his plush leather couch. Vox’s quarters were almost brutally minimal compared to Valentino’s or Velvette’s, but to him, the rooms were perfect. Comfortable, calming, exactly what he wanted them to be. He didn’t put much in there in the way of furniture or decor, nor did he entirely stick to mid-century modern despite what some might expect… but one thing he hadn’t put in there was Angel’s noise. It was unwelcome. Extremely unwelcome.

Cranky, tired, and frustrated that he’d now been interrupted in the middle of what was to him a fairly important task, Vox capped his fountain pen, set the ledger aside, and stretched, moving slowly and casually as he listened to Angel throwing his little diva tantrum. Whatever had caused it was probably Val’s fault somehow, he thought (unkindly, but with a dark amusement), and he usually left the two of them to themselves. He never watched Angel when he was out and about, never spied on him in his living space, never intruded on whatever it was that Angel and Valentino had unless Val specifically asked him to check in. Not that he was jealous, of course. It wasn’t like Angel Dust got to put his hands and lips all over Valentino in ways Vox would love to feel so free to do. Ha. What a thought. No, he just didn’t care what happened to Angel Dust. He really didn’t. Absolutely didn’t. He didn’t care. At all. Not even a little.

He definitely didn’t protest too much, even to himself. Ha.

Having thought he was in for the night, Vox was dressed down far more than he liked to be when he was going to be around anyone else, but there was just so much noise happening and he was so irritated, he didn’t want to go put proper attire on. So, still in his slacks, shirt unbuttoned to reveal a snug, sleeveless undershirt, tie still hanging undone to either side, he just grabbed a drink and made his way in to go do some bothering of his own.

Vox let himself in to Angel’s room, watched the flying objects for a moment–then overrode every little possible speaker Angel possessed so they amplified Vox’s own speakers as he started projecting sound effects and a laugh track. Squeaky clown bonk noises when something hit a wall, an audience cracking up at exactly the wrong moment, a peppy little musical number to code the scene as comedy. Whether or not Valentino chose to grace them with his beautiful presence, Vox was here and annoyed and going to at least amuse himself.

“Having fun? You know, Val actually has to pay for all of that.” Folding his arms, he leaned back against the wall. “And while we’re at it. Who the fuck put their hands on you?” He tried to ask it like he didn’t care, hidden under a facade as if there was no actual concern whatsoever. Like he wasn’t seething a little. Angel might not be his, but goddamn it, he was theirs. Their person, their property. Theirs. Whoever the fuck thought they could get away with beating the tar out of Angel Dust was going to become tar.

[kicking it over to @hellmxses ! ]

With how long he had been living in the V Tower, they would all be used to his little outbursts. They weren’t nearly as bad as Valentinos, at least if one were to ask him personally, but he was still known for having little temper tantrums every now and then. Which was exactly what was happening right now. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be going out on his own more than he needed; or more so more than was allowed. Valentino had definitely cracked down after Anthony Angel Dust had signed the contract. But there was no way he wasn’t going to have a little fun himself, cause a little chaos.

Which had been exactly what had put him in such a bad mood. Because causing chaos often came with chaos being directed towards him as well, and that part he didn’t like – especially when it wasn’t fun. By the bloody arm and split lip, that was proof it wasn’t fun. Angel was a skilled gunsman, he usually didn’t allow himself to get hit, but those mobsters had really caught him off guard.

Which was exactly why he was throwing a tantrum. He hated feeling like he was losing in any way, slamming the door to their shared living space was bit too hard before storming up to the penthouse. Even though he naturally mostly stayed in Valentino’s space, he was glad he had his own as well – Val probably was, too, considering how many people he brought home. And there was Vox, of course. And Velvette. He wasn’t dumb.

So to his room he went, and anyone that was remotely within ear shot would hear the way things smashed against his walls. It wasn’t like Val wouldn’t help him replace the expensive makeup, the perfumes, everything else. Fat Nuggets wasn’t even phased, curled up in the middle of the luxurious sheets as his momma cussed and yelled, mostly in Italian of course, finally having got out his annoyance in the form of rage enough to calm down – but only after his room was in shambles.

@doublejango // @hellmxses

When Vox actually showed up, Vepar quite literally gasped in quiet delight, thrilled that he had come. And while he was as aware of his own station relative to a Sinner's as any Goetia ought to be, he was too excited, too happy for once in his life, to remember all of his composure: he bowed. It was a graceful thing, as if performed by a dancer, and when he stood he was smiling--a rare thing, not that Vox was likely to know it.

"Vox," he greeted, touching a hand to his chest. "It is an honor to have you here. Thank you for coming. I know it isn't necessarily something many Sinners will enjoy, especially given that a good portion of the exhibits are fish from Earth--among other planets--but I thought you, you might like it." The way the Goetia spoke those words, it sounded like that meant a great deal to him. Perhaps they could never be kindred spirits, perhaps such a thing was never possible for demons, but all the same? Vepar was happy. He was happy to be able to share this vision with someone else who might like it, and even if Vox ended up laughing at him in the end for taking so much joy out of such an endeavor? It was worth it just for these moments.

"Your driver is welcome to remain in the car if they wish, but they are also welcome to wait in the lobby if that is more comfortable; I wasn't sure how many staff you might bring with you and so had a small supper prepared for them." If Vox chose to leave his staff in the lobby, they would find comfortable furniture and a pleasant buffet. And, of course, there was one massive wall of a tank there--a tropical reef, as should best greet all guests at any aquarium. The lights in the huge tank were dimmed, but some of the fish were still visible of course--not all creatures slept at night.

But Vox? Vepar led Vox deeper.

It didn't smell like an aquarium--it didn't smell of concrete and machinery, of electrical conduits, of cleaning products. The place genuinely smelled fresh, like ocean air, and the sounds around them were soft.

"I know it might seem rather forward, inviting you to this, but once I heard about your love of sharks? I had to. It seems so rare to find souls who aren't... jaded? Who still loves to love, to enjoy life. There is--a difference." They walked along a corridor completely surrounded by water, fish sleepily swimming over them in the tunnel, candles flickering along at their feet. "Perhaps in Heaven, love is an infinite thing, but here, in Hell... it is so finite, that I will gladly seek out any joy--and anyone joyful." As the Duke of Loss, whose domain revolved around grief and loneliness, emptiness and agony, Vepar craved these warmer things and wasn't ashamed to admit it.

"Here." At the end of the first tunnel, he stepped down, then offered Vox his hand for the stairs, as the room was darkened--but it wasn't a room, not properly. Because the moment Vox stepped down there with him, the two of them were standing on the sea floor. They could breathe, they could speak, they weren't even wet, but all the same, it felt real. "You may swim if you wish, it is perfectly safe," the Goetia added, looking up with pride.

Above them, they could see moonlight and starlight shimmering on the surface--but all around them? There were shadows. Sharks. Graceful in their endless movement, shadows above them, ghosts passing beside them.

"They can bite you," he cautioned. "Just as we can interact with them, they can interact with us. But until they are given reason not to be, they are gentle creatures." He reached a hand out, and a hammerhead who seemed to recognize him came racing up, turning at the last moment to brush her entire body along the Goetia's talons, clearly enjoying it. She came back around to do it again and again, and eyed Vox curiously.

"This is the first of the shark tanks," Vepar explained. "And this is Heloise. She has a scar there, near her tail; humans tried to kill her. And in the moment she realized she was about to die, she fought it. So many animals do not. They have the instinct to live, but it is not the same thing as a fear of death, not always. She wanted to live. So, I offered to bring her here." He kissed her face gently, and when a heavy bull shark swam up and nudged his shoulder, he turned to pet and scritch at that one as well. "All of these sharks were rescued from one fate or another. Enjoy them. And forgive me, please, for going on at such length; we needn't talk, you are welcome to simply enjoy their beauty." He swam up a little bit off the bottom, floating there comfortably--happy. He had just spoken far too much, sharing more about himself than he ever really did, but Vepar was practically gleaming with delight.

"Pet them, scratch lightly at them, but please do not hurt them. They are alive--and quite friendly. Darling, darling, no," he said, and clicked his tongue at one who was experimentally trying to nom on Vox's jacket. The shark seemed to understand, because it let go and veered away--only to be replaced by another curious one, who seemed fascinated by the Overlord's screen.

It's kind of funny that Vepar had sent an invitation, because the thing was Vox had long ago determined he was going to be present at the opening ceremonies regardless of whether he received one or not. (As far as he was concerned, it was his goddamn right, if this place was intending to upstage Vee Tower for largest aquarium in the city.) He'd blocked off the entire evening the moment it was announced, and then the afternoon too after some thought—just to be safe. If it hadn't been open to sinners (unlikely, given the location, but not impossible) Vox would've found a way in through their security system; maybe a small drone if nothing else.

The point being that there was very little Vepar could've done to keep Vox out. (At least in Vox's opinion.)

The invitation, then, is a bit of a surprise; the sort that had him spitting out his morning iced coffee on some less important reports. He has no doubt that the note is real, of course; he has people to vet these sorts of things. A fake one would've never crossed his desk. It's more the nature of it at all—a private showing before the grand exhibition is an unusually generous offer, especially from someone he's never personally met. He's learned to be suspicious of such things—after all, his own generous offers usually have expectations attached.

Of course, he's still going to cancel all of his evening appointments in record time, because this is the most interesting thing to happen to him all year. That, and sinners—even the most powerful among them—generally did not want to refuse the requests of a Goetia.

Also, sharks.

Vox considers the contents of the short message as the driver skillfully navigates the streets of other Overlords' districts. It's the tone that most intrigues him; though he knows better to start making assumptions before he's met the man, it at least doesn't reek of the pompousness he's encountered with some other Goetia.

As they pull up to the main entrance, Vox catches a glimpse of a lithe avian figure almost silhouetted in the lights outside the aquarium. There could be no mistaking him; the businessman had taken the time to review what public information he could find about the Duke prior to leaving.

By the time the door opens, Vox has selected a suitably reserved but genuine smile, speaking without hesitation as he steps out of the back.

"Duke Vepar, I presume? It's lovely to meet you; thank you for your generous invitation. I've had my eye on this place since it was announced and let me tell you—I've been waiting with baited breath for it to open."

The prince's lips come close to Blitz's ear, feather-light touch to the back of his horns; there, and gone within an instant before they settle instead on his feral lover's shoulders. ❝ I thought of you today while I was out, ❞ he begins, lips curving into confident and fond smile. Stolas steps away to pull a heavy velvet bag from within his pocket. He was grateful for it provided the gift it carried. From within, Stolas produces an intricately crafted knife that was almost black, were it not for the shifting sheen of its blade. It changes upon movement like the iridescence of corvid feathers. At the base where blade met hilt, was a singular engraving - a B for his name. ❝. . . one can never have too many weapons, in your case at least. ❞

Blitz had closed his eyes at the wonderful contact from his lover, leaning his head back and reaching up to caress his head with his claws, but he didn't try to hold on. He watched as Stolas moved around him--and then, when the knife came out, his lips parted and his breath caught.

It was beautiful.

There had to be a catch to something so stunning, but it didn't matter. If Stolas trusted it? That was enough for Blitz. He would let his prince ruin him, ruin every last part of him, without hesitation, if that was ever what Stolas needed. It would be a hell of a way to go.

Hand closing around the hilt, a pleased shiver moved through him. The knife fit. It fit in his hand like it was made to be there, and he could practically feel it hissing with eagerness to be christened. Thoroughly charmed by the beauty, the imp turned the blade from side to side for a moment, just watching the way it shimmered, how dark the reflections were, before he looked back up and met his baby's eyes.

"The first person it kills will be in your honor." Leaning up, he kissed them tenderly--even as his tail wrapped hard around their waist, the spade angled away so as not to cut him, but the grip tight. Possessive. Unyielding.

"What can I give you in return, my love? Would you like a prisoner skinned? Would you like to be tied to your throne and toyed with? Parts of you... sealed with wax?" The words were crude, but they were also love, pure love.

Blitz's eyes were never brighter than when he looked at Prince Stolas.

"Damn right. Nobody gets to take you away from me an' Millie. And hey, I'll just be the warm-up act anyway. Millie will take those fuckers down. I'll just soften 'em up for her." Blitz nuzzled him one more time, then helped him get a little more comfortable before he changed the channel to one that kept the sound level low and the visuals simple: insects fluttering around in the sunlight, sometimes birds, squirrels.

Blitz went around and shut off most of the lights, leaving the dim one over the stove on in case Moxxie needed to get up in the middle of the night, or if he had nightmares. That done, Blitz curled up in the little nest he had made for himself on the floor in front of the couch, tucked an arm under his head, and gazed contentedly at the television screen. Soon enough, he felt himself drifting off... but before he did, he flopped his tail up there and wrapped it loosely with Moxxie's tail.

Friends forever, Blitz thought, loving him with all his heart. Even if you're an alien. Even if you turn crazy and evil. I love you, Mox. More than you'll ever know. I love you.

Moxxie squeaked as he was wrapped into a blanket burrito. But he did not struggle, by now trusting Blitzo only meant to help. Blinking widely and listening to Blitz's suggestion about resting and getting his mind off of ruminating, slowly his face broke into a cautious, bashful smile. Something about hearing that he would still be accepted even if he was an alien comforted him. It was an outlandish fear, he knew. But other things were not. He could become sick. He could be injured. A whole number of things could happen that would upset the balance of what made him the Moxxie that people knew and loved. So having this reassurance? That was nice.

"Yeah, I...uh. Probably could use some sleep, ha ha. I think I might have hyper focused on some...existential horrors..." he let Blitzo bite his horn, giggling. The reassurance that Blitzo would fight aliens that tried to take Moxxie away got the smaller imp's tail swishing, the only part of him that was not wrapped up in the blanket. "I'm sure if anyone would make them give up, it would be you, sir. "Thank you."