"Damn Right. Nobody Gets To Take You Away From Me An' Millie. And Hey, I'll Just Be The Warm-up Act Anyway.

"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."

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.

That gentle little boop damn near knocked the imp over, he was that unsteady on his feet. He'd been beaten to near unconsciousness earlier, fucked hard enough and long enough that he had begged him to stop--without using their safe-word, but he had been damn close-- and his back caned harder still. Even before the fight, Blitz had been exhausted--he had actually curled up and cried on someone, much to his fucking shame, as he came up out of subspace. Thankfully, she didn't know that, but he was on his last legs, the fight--and the wound--having taken a lot out of him.

Her being kind? That was almost too much to handle. Blitz met her eyes, searching them, trying to understand--why? She could get some pleasure from him, be served by him, and never have to look his way again, so why was she bothering? But when he finally let himself look down at his chest--and his ruined shirt, fuck, he had loved that fucking shirt--he felt sick. Thankfully, the blade had hit his sternum, but it had opened a significant laceration in his chest. Muscle and skin gaped open, and while it didn't fully hurt yet, it was a cold sensation, deeply cold.

"Yeah," he said, and pressed a hand against the damaged flesh, trying to hold it shut, "that actually might be a good idea... thank you." Looking up again, he met her eyes once more.

They were beautiful.

Really, really beautiful.

Whatever she was, whoever she was, she was stunning.

"My name's Blitz," he said, his voice soft, smile softer still. Tired, hurting, he still looked like he meant it when he smiled at her, like he couldn't help but smile. "Thank you. For all of this shit. I'm gonna owe you more than head by the time this is all over, babe."

Though she did her best for it not to register upon her face, Visage couldn't contain the faint crease of her brow at the Goetia's rather condescending choice of words. This wasn't an unfamiliar tone to her--the thinly-veiled message of 'you're doing well ... for a hellhound' seemed to color a great many of the meetings she had had thus far with many of her 'peers'. Considering where the Ars Goetia stood upon the proverbial totem pole, she honestly should have seen it coming. Her mixed heritage did little to dull the sting of their judgment, however, when the other half didn't rank much higher. At the end of the day, she was just some hellborn mutt 'putting on airs' and swinging above her weight class, in the eyes of those who thought so little of her. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she pointedly replied, "Oh, I'll be there. Don't you worry." Try as she might, she couldn't keep that venomous edge from her voice. In the end it didn't much matter, as the avian was quick to take his leave not long after, whisking away the injured sinner to who knew where. Somewhere safe was all that Visage hoped. A faint sigh escaped her as she watched Vepar go. Blitz's voice snapped her back to reality, though, giving him a thin lopsided smile. "Yeah, I get that reaction a lot. Hellborn Overlords aren't usually, like ... a thing. Buuuut that's a long and not-all-that-interesting story that can wait for another time. You, though..." Slipping in to swiftly close the space between the imp and herself, the she-wolf leaned down and paused to playfully boop him upon his face where a nose would normally be. "...look like shit. You don't owe me squat 'til we get you taken care of." Standing back to her full height her expression softened visibly. "You wanna 'pay me back', then start by comin' with me back to my place. I got plenty of first aid supplies and we can get that cleaned up in a jiffy."

per discussions with @doublejango

To some, it is a horror to behold, revolting to imagine or encourage. To them, it is a custom; a ritual, a gifting, and a statement of devotion.

Blitz on more than one occasion has brought the hearts of his foes [ and those bold enough to attempt flirtations or courtship towards Stolas ] to him. Some are left upon the doorstep whilst he carries on with his next hunt or adventure, others are hand-delivered. While Stolas does not keep every heart brought to them, they do take care to keep a great many of them. He uses different methods to preserve or otherwise craft them into something decorative for their home. Some are merely placed into enchanted cases, set on display for visitors to behold. They may not be his own kills, but Stolas takes pride in them, happy to explain in clear and vivid detail the memory of Blitz bringing it to him.

The very first heart every gifted to them has been carefully preserved and encased in a polished onyx box lined with wine-red velvet and small, black satin pillow for it to rest upon. It does not require a key, but is locked using a special mechanism. It is among one of his most prized possessions, and the only heart which is not openly on display for just anyone to see. This one is kept within their private chambers upon the vanity.

One of his favorite things to say or have said to Blitz is: "I would have died happily with your claws wrapped around my beating heart, bleeding for your volatile affections."

"You haven't? That's too bad. Cause I don't even know you," Blitz stretched, getting comfortable, "but I'd probably put you on a list. Hot chair guy, something like that." The imp was tired, his body pleasantly limp after an absurdly long and hard day, and draping himself over someone felt incredible. Granted, draping himself over an absolute stranger who may or may not want him there was questionable at best, but it sure felt nice.

Choosing not to worry about it, Blitz closed his eyes and leaned his head back over the man's shoulder, tucking his horns in comfortably against his back.

"So. If we're gonna cuddle," as if it wasn't all Blitz's ridiculous doing, "you gonna tell me your name? Mine's Blitz--the O is silent."

@doublejango

"Means you might be a little sus," Blitz said, hopping directly into the guy's lap, "but someone thinks you're fucking doable."

"Luckily I haven't seen my name anywhere, yet." He chuckles watching as the imp climbed on his lap. It did kind of catch him off guard though he didn't object.

VERSE INFO: FOLK OF THE AIR

Blitz is loyal to his lover, @botanikos's Stolas, prince of the Avernus Territory. They have his whole heart, and if Stolas asked, Blitz would do anything for him. Anything. It doesn't matter who else might come into their lives, or what loyalty Stolas might swear. Blitz only cares about Stolas. Passionately, dangerously, unhealthily, and without regret. The imp is a killer--an assassin who can be hired, although he tends to be tough for clients to court in this verse--and revels in violence. Any time he has an excuse to kill for Stolas, he takes it without regret. Sometimes, even if he doesn't have an excuse, beings end up lifeless and Blitz will leave their hearts for his beloved to find in the morning.

He came down from the Court of Termites several years ago, hired to kill Stolas--and the moment he saw him, the first instant, he fell in love. He didn't know if they had enchanted him, if they had some sort of trick, but he doubted it; Blitz has always had an incredibly strong resistance to magic, although he has very few powers of his own. Even if Stolas was using magic on him, it didn't matter. Looking at them was the first time Blitz cared about the beauty he saw, the first time he was moved. He didn't even let Stolas know he was there, he just returned home, killed his client--or so rumor says--and promptly went back to Prince Stolas's court to, well, court him.

Blitz's magic is limited. He is wholly immune to fire (he'll take a nap in a fireplace if he comes home chilled) and can create fire at will, although it takes a lot out of him to do so. He possesses a black crystal, embedded into his left hand, that he uses to portal. It can only transport him--or so he has hinted--and it hurts him to use, but if he doesn't use it for too long, the crystal begins to fade... and so does Blitz. He considers his twisted relationship with it to be worth it. It can't be taken from him anyway, unless one manages to take his hand with it, and the imp is tenacious, tough, and very violent. In this verse, Blitz actually had a formal education, but he also grew up learning combat--and never the honorable kind. Kill quickly, kill brutally, make it dirty, make it fun. He's not high society and he's not powerful, but he's dangerous to tangle with all the same.

Blitz is about 5'6" when he stands upright--which, in this verse, he actually does, lacking the injury from his main verse that crippled his feet. He's a little more muscular--and definitely more feral. His horns are always dyed fully black, and he decorates them with tokens he steals from his kills. Melted gold drizzled prettily, a delicate bejeweled chain spiraled 'round, a ring slid over the tip. He does the same with the spines on his tail and head, but the ones on his shoulders are almost never decorated--and he will not let anyone but Stolas touch those ones without a fight.

The spade of his tail almost always has a delicate-looking blade fitted over it--lovely filigree, the edges razor sharp. He won't hesitate to injure someone with it if they try to touch his shoulder spines.

Blitz prefers to dress in all red--typically a red corset, long jacket that is such a deep red it is damn near black, and trousers that are just as dark, but with cheerfully bright red ribbons stitched on seemingly at random. He walks up on his hooves and almost never wears any sort of shoe or footwear--although he will decorate his hooves from time to time, if he's feeling fancy, and he keeps them sharp.

In this verse, Blitz does not have any children, adopted or otherwise, but has still been magically sterilized.

He will only ship with Jude's Stolas--no other ships, at all, although muses are welcome to try if they want to risk it--and the only Cardan is @cruelprincae, in case others magically come out of the woodwork. I'm happy to write with anyone who wants to play in this verse, but will probably keep all threads related; ie, if he kills person X in one thread, he will probably think about it in the next thread as a pleasant memory.

Ironically, despite being a faerie, this may be Blitz's most demonic verse. He is basically chaotic evil; the only check in his life is Stolas, and Blitz is just fine with that.