"You Haven't? That's Too Bad. Cause I Don't Even Know You," Blitz Stretched, Getting Comfortable, "but

"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.

"Not at all. I never open a can of worms unless I wish to see them squirm," Vepar answered, unable to stop smiling. Vox loved them! He loved them, clearly loved them, and so this was all worth it. "And they do indeed. As far as each shark is concerned, they are in an environment they've always known--the temperatures, the salinity, the types of food, even the angle of the light they perceive. It has been... a complicated bit of magic to pull off," he said, well-aware that he probably sounded like an ass for putting it that mildly, immediately blushing, "but well worth while. They are from different oceans, and some..." He nodded towards a massive shadow far off to the side. "Such as that giant, no longer exist on Earth. Still others never have at all, but evolved all the same in other worlds.

"And just as the sharks experience their own physical realities, so does each guest. Even if there are a hundred Sinners in this particular exhibit, they'll only see the party they come in with; every group will have a staff member with them, of course, to ensure safety--for the sharks. No offense intended, of course, but I don't particularly care if one of my sweetlings takes a bite out of a Sinner for misbehavior.

"Each party is always in their own pocket of reality, so this can be an escape from the... rather crowded confines of Hell, at least for a little while... No, my love. Let go of my finger. Thank you." A disappointed little chain catshark swam up and settled onto Vepar's arm instead. He stroked it idly. "And while I am delighted to share this with you, I won't pretend not to want something from you in return, Vox, nor will I wait to spring it on you at the end. I do not... anticipate my own death happening anytime soon. But if it does? I do not want this place to fall into the hands of just anyone. If you are amenable, I would like you to be my heir. It will take some doing, of course, for me to create the necessary magic that will prove self-sustaining and yet malleable by your will, but I will gladly craft such a thing if you will consider accepting it.

"And that is it. That is all I hope to gain from you: assurance that if I am killed, you will do your best to care for this place. The magic and the funding will be provided for, but the creatures within? They require not just care, but caring. Love. An eye to notice if one is ailing. Even if you were only able to stop by for a brief while each night... it would be a comfort to me, to know that there is someone who understands--inherently understands... how beautiful all of these lives are.

"You needn't answer now, of course. There is much more to see. But I do not wish to--leave you wondering when the proverbial trap will be sprung, or the pitch made.

"While you consider... do you shapeshift? Or would you enjoy being shifted? I thought we might swim with them, take on their forms for a while. Conversation will not be possible, but it might be... pleasant? To taste and feel the ocean as they do."

There’s a first time for everything, Vox reflects, apparently even being bowed to by a Goetia. He raises his eyebrows slightly, but otherwise takes it with as much grace as he can muster in the moment. Already this particular bird has leapt to the top of his list for the handful of Goetia he’s dealt with thus far (not that it was hard, as the few he’s met were generally pompous stuffy sticks-in-the-mud who felt that they could demand very niche shows out of his networks).

Such polite behavior is a rare commodity in hell, and Vox will admit that after seventy or so years he’s been guilty of stooping below on more than a few occasions. Sometimes it’s all other sinners respond to. But moments like these pull out the natural businessman in him, and he thinks that he’s going to get along with Vepar just fine. Even if it turns out to be an act– well, he can appreciate someone who understands the power of basic respect.

Vox tilts his head back to the waiting car. “Hey, Jordan. Free food, or do you want to head home for the night?” he calls.

The driver seems to consider this for a moment before stepping out of the car, revealing herself to be a muscle-bound Sinner of mostly humanoid shape, bar the miniature stoplight that takes the place of her head. The bottom light flashes green, resembling a half-lidded eye with its movements.

“Cool. Enjoy yourself, then. No need to wait up on me.”

The pair of them leave Jordan behind in the lobby, with Vox only lingering on the reef for a moment. He doesn’t want to hold Vepar up from whatever he has planned, but he shamelessly casts his gaze around to take everything in. The candles in particular make his processors stutter for a fraction of a second, the barest flicker of his screen. Were this anyone else but a Goetia, Vox would place a substantial bet on the individual in question wanting to either fuck him or kill him. (Or both.)

He supposes both options are still technically on the table, but he’ll give Vepar the benefit of the doubt for the moment.

Though the comment Vepar makes about seeming forward does seem to tick the needle in favor of the former. Vox listens patiently, his gaze bouncing between the tank and his companion.

...Offering a hand to help him down also adds another point to the ‘fuck’ category. Vox is rarely on the receiving end of such gestures, but hey, he can work with it–

The moment he’s underwater, Vox gives a yelp that is rather unbecoming of an Overlord with as much power as he holds.

It’s a fleeting second of mostly shock, not even lasting long enough for a proper fear to set in. None of his sensors are screaming; there is no water rushing into his hollowed-out corpse seeking to corrupt the electronic components within.

There is no freezing lakewater rushing into his lungs, no television tied to his ankle to assure his descent to the depths-

No warning of imminent shutdown.

He is fine.

Well–he is fine, apart from the abrupt understanding of something he had been warned about many times before and never truly understood until now.

This was what they meant when they said Goetia were more powerful than sinners. Here his companion holds the power to drown Vox, to render him stuck and unable to regenerate for as long as he wished. Nevermind the consequences that would follow: for Vox, being submerged was second only to angelic weaponry itself. No hope of escaping on his own, no awareness, not even a subconscious mind to immerse himself in in the interim; just pure nonexistence.

Instead... Vepar uses it to show him sharks.

...Huh. He hasn’t been humbled like this in quite some time; at least not in a way that he’s willing to admit to himself.

“...Holy shit,” Vox mumbles. His eyes are enormous, filling up most of the screen, and it takes him a moment to remember himself, to find his foothold as an Overlord again. “Apologies for my language.”

“...Heloise.” Lovely. Fuck, he fucking loves hammerheads and their goofy-ass heads. A small smile fights for screen real estate with his eyes, winning out the battle for a space at the bottom. “No harm, you have my word.”

He follows Vepar’s movements, his hand held out and still, claws relaxed. He won’t reach for any that come by, but allow them to come to him if they choose– and some of them do, such as the black-tipped reef that seems as fascinated by Vox as he is by it. Oh, he loves it. He fucking loves it.

He’s unaware of his smile pushing bigger, sincere in a way that had become rather rare for him.

“This is… kind of amazing? I mean. Not kind of, just amazing. Full stop.” Vox laughs, his fans kicking up speed a notch. “Shit, I’m usually better with words than this.”

When the black-tipped reef noses against him, his haptic sensors register the roughness of the skin. Vox can’t help but marvel. After all, this is the first time he’s ever actually touched one–well, one from topside, anyway.

Not many chances to touch sharks in fucking Ohio.

“...You know, I can’t believe you think this wouldn’t appeal to more sinners. All the magic and beauty aside, most of them would jump at the opportunity to see things from their old lives, or even to see things they never got the chance to in life. This place could be packed tomorrow with the right advertising, if you wanted.”

Maybe he doesn’t. Vox would understand that; he already feels a deep-seated satisfaction in his bones, having not only this experience but in private with the man who’d made the whole thing possible. No other racous patrons around to disrupt the view, cracking crude jokes, tapping on the glass and doing whatever the hell else the worst of sinners down here could do in a place like this. He’d freely admit to the part of him that wants to sink his claws into the building foundations and never let it go. No one else would –could– appreciate it like he would.

But he also likes a crowd. And moreso, Vox loves being the intermediary, the educator, the entertainer. The person to introduce others to the next big thing, to show them something new, to point them to the experience that would put a light in their eyes and a smile on their face. Not the artist, necessarily, but the curator.

And oh, would Vox happily do that for this. Easily, willingly, paid for in the entertainment value he’d get and maybe garnering some goodwill with Vepar if he’s lucky. The whole of Pride Ring would seethe with jealousy if they knew just how quickly the Duke of Loss had been able to gain Vox’s approval–no, his enthusiasm, even.

“All these species from different parts of the world… How do they all live together? Do they all experience different temperatures and salinity? Are there any ecosystem conflicts you have to account for?”

“...I have so many questions. I hope you don’t regret opening up that can of worms.”

Eris hadn't expected him to yield so quickly.

He wasn't sure what he had expected, but not this. Defiance, useless hissing and posturing, threats, or maybe weeping? But the way Hans simply gave in, agreed and gave himself over? That struck a chord in the High Lord, because he recognized it. With a sudden pang of pain--familiar pain, old, a memory that left its secret scars--he recognized that adaptability, the drive to do whatever it took to survive.

He knew--he had been there.

Eris immediately absorbed the heat that had begun gathering in Hans's chest, easing away any trace of the burn that might have been starting, and rested his palm against the now-bare skin instead, standing far too close to him.

Mine. My human. The realization was a sobering one, for even as the human now belonged to him, if Eris accepted him? He would belong to the human in return. He would be bound to protect him, should someone else threaten him--although, in a darkly twisted irony, Eris himself would be able to do whatever he pleased to the human.

His human.

His survivor.

"Remove the chains," he told a guard, without ever looking away from the human's eyes. "And very well. Tell me your name."

As long as you belong to me, I will defend you. Let the monsters come for you; I will fight for you. But I will never, never tell you that.

Stay ever at my side, and you will be safe. So long as you are mine.

"Yes" The man didn't even hesitate.

20 seconds was an awfully short time and everything that had happened to him had happened so quickly it felt surreal. He wished now he had listened to his brother and read more stories about the mythos out there, he had been a nonbeliever in anything and everything magical until he met Elsa and was somehow struck by lightning twice in life running into magic twice it had to mean something, right?

But he was aware no god or deity would come to his aid, at least he was consistent that way. He knew was on his own, always has been, and unknowingly he echoed the lord's thoughts.

What was he to do? In the face of bounds and magic?

Choosing to live now, he swallowed hard hoping he would at least have that decision in his hands later if he came to regret his decisions but Hans knew, he just knew the world wasn't the fastest or the strongest, it was of those who could adapt themselves better to the circumstances, and that was Hans' strongest suit, he had survived Ulrich, his father, he had survived Arendelle. He would survive this somehow.

"I give myself to you, uh... my lord" he tries with the first title that comes to his head.

His palms were sweaty, his heart beating a thousand miles a minute and he was sure his eyes were wide like saucers.

He was terrified. Yet Hans' will was that of the strongest steel. He would do what it takes to survive. Even if at this moment, it was painful or demeaning.

Eris didn't need to look to guess at exactly who had made Queen Elsa falter, and a smirk touched his lips--just the hint of one, as he knew she wasn't one to be trifled with--to his senses, she blazed like a white flame, cool and contained but dangerous, and likely far fiercer than she seemed--but a smirk all the same.

"It may be worth discussing," he said, although whether or not that was genuine agreement was anyone's guess. Touching a hand to his chest, he bowed to her--a respectful, elegant bow, but a small one. They were in the heart of his Court, after all, and the winter ball was about to begin. Eris was not inclined to bow deeply to anyone, least of all a foreign queen--and one who was arguably human, at that. Still, he had invited her here, and couldn't bring himself to be outright rude... even if the only reason he had invited her was an idle curiosity. How would she react to discovering that he had made a pet out of one of her own? He knew by now that there was some connection between Hans and Elsa, and stirring this particular pot seemed like a delightful way to deepen the game.

"Welcome to the Autumn Court, lovely queen. It is but one realm of many, within the land of Prythian--although we do not often welcome humans, I hope you find yourself invited to the other Courts during your stay. Partial as I am to my own," this time his smile was genuine, "each is more beautiful than the last. Spring is doing well, finally; the flowers bloom without shame after too long dormant. But can a flower truly compare to a tree touched with every shade of red and gold?"

This place was alive with magic, even the air itself seemed to dance with magic, awake and aware of itself, fierce and free--and all of it tied to the High Lord. Everything in Autumn, from the greatest oak to the tiniest pebble, was a part of this man, a magic ever renewed by his presence, drawing life from him, tied to him.

"Enjoy the festival. Unless you have a strong head for drink, may I suggest you avoid any wine that seems to shimmer? And the sweeter a fruit may seem to be," added, picking up a heavy, ripe blackberry from a passing tray, "the more intoxicating, and the more you will crave, the more you will need. Yet just one? I think the risk will be... minimal. For one such as yourself."

Eris held it out to her on his palm, rich golden eyes gleaming as he studied the beauty. "What is it the humans say? We must not look at goblin men, we must not buy their fruits--who knows upon what soil they've fed their hungry, thirsty roots? But," he smiled, "this one does not come from goblins. Please. Enjoy it, as a gift of welcome; let it please you, and you will be able to see through any glamour tonight, until sunrise."

Although the truth, Eris privately thought, was all too often worse than the dreams. Sometimes it was better to look no deeper than a deception offered.

"Lord Vanserra," Elsa bowed respectfully, a smile on her face. "I'm honored that you've invited me to your court. An alliance between our peoples would be most ---" her voice trailed off for a moment. That smile faltering. She could swear she saw someone familiar among the crowed ballroom. "Most welcome, it would be most welcome."

( @doublejango )

That had Blitz laughing, despite the momentary pause at how Fizz pushed him down. Fuck, his friend was hot. Blitz was trying, really fucking trying these days, not to notice how attractive his friend was, but sometimes? Sometimes, that shit was just difficult. Fizz had that magical quality, something warm and positive, that nobody could emulate, and that could never just be taken.

Admiring him, Blitz smiled when Fizz kicked his feet in the air. It was good to be friends, he thought. Because no matter how hot Fizzarolli might be? Being his friend felt like the best damn thing in the world. Blitz didn't want anything more from him. It was fun to be with him, fun with they flirted without meaning a thing--and sure, maybe it wasn't fun to come here after a party like Verosika's, but so what? Fizz had become the sun and melted his tears away, it seemed.

"Come on," he said, smirking and getting his phone out, as they talked about stolen sex toys. "This is Hell. You're telling me there's not a market for used sex toys? I bet..." A bit of Voogling, and then he found it. "Ha! There it is. Black market used sex toy pop-up sale, by invitation only. Apparently, you have to go through some kind of poker game to get an invite... whaddya think? Should we--ewwwuh, it says guaranteed not washed. That's... you know, I'm open to a lot of shit, and even I think that's disgusting.

"Wanna go to the used toy market, see if we spot any of your missing inventory? Might be a way to get a lead on who your thieves are."

" Life fucking sucks sometimes " Fizz added with a chuckle " But hey, it makes one stronger doesn't it " Fizz wasn't sure what Blitzo had been through. Only having a vague Idea. Ultimately, both were left alone eventually, left to fend for themself. All because of a lie.

"Nah, only if I want to " partly teasing, partly true. If you're his friend? Yeah sure. To most sane fans too. But it is not the same as when he was young - he wouldn't just give this luxury to everyone anymore.

Fizz had one arm curled around Blitz, stroking his back, the other hand patted the other Imp's head before his hand slows want to stroke his horns. " No need to apologize, pal "If anything, Fizz was glad Blitz still felt so comfortable around him. Blitzo always tried to be the strong one, even when they were younger - Fizz doubted Blitzo changed much in that aspect.

A grin came across the jester face, before starting to push Blitzo down on the couch, laying down next to him. Kicking his feet into the air. " haha ! Sure sounds like an idea! But it honestly the standard shit you get in most stores here, not even the luxury shit." there was a shrug " Not like its much of a lose " it was, just not for Ozzie and FIzz to worry much about " not like we can sell it anymore even if we get it back "

"It's just funny to think about someone who was this desperate to get released" he chuckled.

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."