Pls I Just Want Them To Be Able To Be Silly Together ;__;

Pls I just want them to be able to be silly together ;__;

Rewatched 'Western Energy' and I was thinking Blitz sure would have left in that same van they rushed Stolas to the hospital in, huh?

for @helluvaflames plotted starter for Millie and Vox to meet

-

Just because Vox was usually too busy to leave Vee tower didn't mean that he never did. There were certain things he could and would make an exception for, and hiring assassins was one of those things... not that he did it on a regular basis, but really, it was the principle of the thing. As someone who traded in everyone's data, he knew exactly how easy it was for an email or a text to be picked up by the wrong party. And with something this delicate, well... there weren't many beings capable of hacking Vox's personal encryptions, and he would almost certainly feel them the moment they began to try, but that didn't mean he wanted to risk it. So, for once, he went on an errand personally.

Dressed in a sharp navy-blue suit, beautifully tailored by Velvette, he knew he wasn't exactly low-profile; he was arguably one of the most recognizable Sinners in Pride. But maybe, maybe that was more of an issue for Pentagram City?

Maybe here in Imp City, it wouldn't be so bad...

Why the fuck am I even worrying about this? Vox wondered with an irritated little huff. What did anyone care what he did, or where he went? And he wasn't some princess bound to her tower, he was allowed to go places... and apparently, to go to those places in a very crabby state of mind.

By the time his driver dropped him off, Vox felt like biting someone. Get a grip, he told himself, smoothing his jacket. Nobody here has done you wrong, they certainly don't deserve to be snapped at. So, he kept a smile on as he wandered down the street, looking for the building...

Ah! There it was. And it was...

Nice?

Dilapidated was the word. The gentlest word, really. Dilapidated, depressing, run-down, shabby...

Don't look down on anything here. Imps are major subscribers.

Vox went in, but rather than risk the frankly questionable elevator, he cheerfully zapped himself up through the electrical network. Stepping out in a landing, he spotted the sign on the door and knocked, smiling cheerfully as he waited to see if any assassins were in today--

And as he maybe, maybe started to second-guess his life choices.

"I mean, I wouldn't mind getting to see you... actually, fuck." Blitz pushed himself upright. "I'm gonna come over, okay? It'll probably be an hour from when we hang up, I gotta... fuck, I really gotta shower. But it--wasn't Earth fire. It was weird fucking golden fire that burned my eyes just to look at, and it was like boiling you away and just... Fuck, you know? I wanna see you? I'll um-- I'll be there in an hour."

He hung up before Stolas could actually reply, because it would be easy enough for Stolas to tell Richard not to let him in--not that Richard was likely to even if Stolas was expecting him. Maybe today would be another day to go in the window... but then it would be harder for Stolas to avoid him if he wanted to, and maybe that wasn't a good thing?

Fuck. Blitz felt too hungover to really think anything through. He tossed his phone aside, stretched, then went to the kitchen and turned the faucet on, sticking his face under it to drink and drink and drink and drink.

Better. He closed his eyes and just let the water run over his face for a moment, then sighed and headed to the bathroom.

Blitz sat on the edge of the tub and clipped his hooves, taking a moment to file them smooth and safe. For a moment, he just held one, rubbing his thumb along the long bones leading up to it, then sighed. Yeah. Too late to go back to walking on them probably, he mused, not for the first time. Blitz sighed and finished the job, then got in the shower and scrubbed hard.

He oiled his horns and his hooves afterwards, then the spines on his shoulder and tail, before getting dressed and heading out. In faded old jeans and a plain white t-shirt, holes torn for his spines rather than a garment with rings in it, Blitz didn't look half as polished as usual.

He hesitated at the door, almost knocked... and started climbing instead.

Fuck Richard.

He hopped over the balustrade and looked into the relative darkness of Stolas's room. Almost an hour on the dot. "Hey, pretty bird. You um, you in here?"

hello @doublejango, stranger I have absolutely not delightedly written thousands of words with elsewhere xD how are you darling?~

_

"Oh, goodness," Stolas blinked, brow furrowing in consternation despite the smile he could hear on Blitz's voice. "That sounds incredibly unpleasant. It really is most fortuitous that earth-fire cannot harm either of us.

"But I am sorry that you had such a distressing dream. And I'm glad that my calling can offer some reassurance." He couldn't help but feel like even a phone call was not enough. He wished he could scoop Blitz into his arms and hold him. Offer physical proof that the dream was only a dream. But- and he was trying to catch himself on this better now- that was a selfish thing to want, wasn't it? just because he desired something didn't mean that Blitz did as well.

"My own nightmares, when I have them..." Stolas admitted quietly, "Are often about being alone. Being lost. Rarely anything so violent. Are you alright? Do you- is there anything that would give you comfort?"

"It's perfect," Striker agreed. It wasn't perfect. It was small and they were going to be too damn close to each other for either of their comfort, but it would do the job. Looking around for some extra barrier, he grabbed a metal door off of its tracks from under a counter. It was loud, but there was so damn much noise out there right now, no one was likely to notice, and it might help protect them.

Once they were inside, he nodded to Fizz to help him. The metal door was flimsy enough that they could bend it into shape inside the closet with them--line the wall and cover the lower half of the door. It wasn't much, but it was something, a secondary barrier in case things got worse. If shrapnel tore through the closet door, the metal liner they'd added might at least slow it down some, at worst.

But it's something, he reminded himself, and we get by on every little something.

Now, with nothing left to do, it was just the two of them in a little closet, eyes gleaming in the dark. Moving carefully, so as not to bump or step on the clown, Striker sat down against one wall. He stretched out his legs and folded his arms, trying to at least pretend he was comfortable, calm. That things were alright. Pretending could get a person a lot farther than giving in.

"So. Fizzarolli, right? How you been? Been a while since you an' I crossed paths." He chuckled and closed his eyes. "Guess violent chaos is our theme."

For a brief moment, Fizz freezes at the sound of that familiar voice. Oh, fucking hell, not HIM. He didn't even have to look to know his guess was right, who else could it be? Face set in a grimace, he follows closely behind Striker not wanting to get left behind. & Definitely not wanting to get caught in the crossfire.

He winces at the sound of glass shattering & ducked inside the restaurant with him. "Yeah, thanks, oh knight in shining armor." he grumbles, still freshly annoyed that they had run into each other ——— again. 

At least this time was different, well, sort of. 

He nearly jumps at the sound of the massive boom. Eyes wide, he stands close behind Striker, hands awkwardly clinging to their arm. He was shaking. "Quickly, though, please." he hisses, wide eyed gaze searching the room for what they had mentioned. "I'd like to keep myself in check. Or else Angel's gonna get my fucking title." 

Not saying he didn't adore working with Angel, but like hell he was gonna be the second favorite star. Head shakes at the thought, squinting as he sees something in the far corner of the restaurant. 'Wait, wait. What's that ? " Stepping forward, he tugs at their hand, pulling him along as he ducks towards a closet that looked hopefully big enough for two. 

This was going to suck. 

"What about there ? " He pulls the door open, sighing as it reveals to be empty. & Definitely enough space for two. "It's ... better than nothing, right ? " 

Let's keep it professional. That was the gist. So Stolas had clearly noticed that the second text came from the heart more than it should have, and he didn't want anything to do with it.

Fuck.

The rejection stung, ached, and threatened to break Blitz down all over again. He wanted to type something quick and shitty and mean, but every time he let his impulses rule in conversation, even if he was just trying to deflect with humor, all he did was make it worse.

Not that it could really get much worse. Stolas didn't want a damn thing from him now, obviously, and probably didn't even want to hire him. It was short notice, and bodyguards were hard to find in Pride--the most violent ring, no matter what public perception would say. Pride was full of Sinners, souls who just respawned whenever they were killed, to whom life meant nothing, and impulse control even less. No one wanted to try and protect someone here, so of course Stolas had to scrape the bottom of the barrel to find someone. Fuck.

Blitz turned the radio on. He made himself listen to two full songs before he replied. Well, he'd planned on listening to three, but impatience (and maybe insecurity; what if Stolas found someone else if Blitz took too long to reply?) won out.

>>okay be there suun

>>just hav to drop of a packidge

>>10 mins

He silenced his phone. If Stolas was going to change his mind now, Blitz didn't want to know about it until he was back at the office, until he could at the very least be around Moxxie and Millie. Loona had been AWOL the last few days, which wasn't really unusual for her, but just being near the other two imps would help... well. Fuck. A little. Maybe.

Even if, not so very deep down, Blitz suspected Moxxie wished he had been at that party.

Fuck.

That fucking party.

Remembering it left Blitz aching anew, sick to his stomach. So many people there, reveling in hating him--including a piece of shit he barely remembered. Dennis was there to celebrate hating him. Dennis, who was what, pissed off that he didn't get to fuck Blitz when Blitz was almost blackout drunk and self-destructive, so wasted that the Queen of Gluttony herself insisted he be taken home? What the fuck was that about, Dennis being included in that shit?

But hatred wasn't logical, and that was the damnable misery of it. Blitz groaned at the thought, rubbing his forehead. It wasn't. Hatred brought people together. Moral superiority brought people together. Being able to bond over anger and disgust and apparently being stopped from taking advantage of him, made those fuckers feel good, feel better.

Good for them.

They were going to end up as goddamn humans if they weren't careful.

But his emotions were getting away from him. Blitz shook his head, put the thoughts away (as best he could; putting the party from his mind got harder every day), and pulled back onto the highway.

-

After a quick stop at the post office, he made it to the office. Blitz hurried upstairs, anticipating telling M&M that Stolas was coming over...

But neither of them was there.

Damn it.

Fuck everything.

He flung himself into a chair in the lobby, leaned his head back, and spun slowly, waiting for Stolas.

It was going to be fine. Really. Everything was going to be fine.

RESPONSE COMES QUICK AS LIGHTNING and for a moment Stolas can't help but stare at the screen. Talon tips pad over nail beds as upper beak nibbles bottom. His heart pounds intensely and after a moment of remembering how to breathe he begins to type back.

' Thank you. We should do this professionally. Are you free now? Could I come in to the office?' Blitz has made it abundantly clear. He doesn't want a relationship with him, couldn't fathom something between them that wasn't meaningless sex. And really who's fault was that? Ever since that night at Ozzie's something had been amiss with them. The owl hadn't been able to put his finger on it, but every plea, every reach for attention, for closeness had been batted down. And then that night-- the full moon. Nothing had gone the way he'd intended and it hurt to know Blitz didn't want the same thing he had . . . still the fact remained. He did in fact need protection from the other Goetia and there was no one he trusted-- had trusted more than Blitz to do it. Even if he didn't actually care about the Prince, his business' reputation was on the line. AND SURELY THAT HAD TO MEAN SOMETHING TO THE IMP, DIDN'T IT?