"I Mean, I Wouldn't Mind Getting To See You... Actually, Fuck." Blitz Pushed Himself Upright. "I'm Gonna

"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?"

for @questionablemuses, because we make questionable decisions. Blitz thinks he is going to run into Adam, little suspecting he's about to have a confrontation with himself...

-

There were some things in life one had to take seriously…

And there were some things in life one had to just acknowledge were ridiculous from the start yet dive in anyway, knowing full-well it was going to be either an awesome or an awful time, nothing in-between. Challenging the former angelic general to a dance-off definitely fell under the latter category, Blitz was sure.

But, even if it was ridiculous crap, he was going to make the best of it.

Blitz hummed as he got ready that night. The work-day had been long and surprisingly tedious, and he almost wanted to call it quits on this whole dancing thing (because fuck if he wasn't having a goddamn existential crisis these days, after going to that fucking party), but a snack and a nap had done the trick, and he was feeling himself a little more now. Tight black pants–not leather, because leather was too grippy and he wanted to be able to be the smoothest bastard this guy had seen–and a tight black t-shirt with chrome rings for the spines on his back. Dark eyeliner, his shorter gloves (fuck the crystal glittering on the back of his left; no matter what he wore, or even when he wore nothing, the crystal was still there), nicer than usual shoes. Oh yeah, he was here for this shit.

Even if Adam wasn’t.

The thought made Blitz grin. Yeah, Adam could hide out if he wanted to, but Blitz had issued a challenge and he was going to give the fucker one more chance to man up and take it.

So, he made his way to a suitably creepy parking lot with sus lighting, picked the creepiest streetlight, and leaned against it, arms folded, in the most casually sexy pose he could manage while still looking nonchalant.

When he heard the crunch of a boot on some bit of gravel or grit, the imp grinned. That must be Adam. Who else would come towards him out here? Without looking, Blitz said, “And here I thought you'd be too scared to come down here and dance-fight me.” He examined his claws. “Not gonna let yourself be intimidated by a widdle imp wike me, aww you? Good for you, you psycho fu..."

He had finally turned to see who was approaching him, but that sure as shit wasn't Adam. That looked like...

Blitz's jaw dropped.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, Val was fucking serious. He was serious. He was being introspective, and he was serious. While Vox knew he should be happy for him, knew he should be proud of him, every word hit him like goddamn ice-water. His screen flickered around the edges, hints of static coming through as he listened. He was mindful never to actually squeeze Valentino's hands the way he suddenly wanted to, as if squeezing them, inflicting some measure of pain, could help. Val wasn't always the most introspective type, none of them really were, so for him to have come to this conclusion, taken the time to plan this, this, this--

Farewell dinner?

Vox abruptly let go. If he didn't, he was going to dig his claws into Val's hands. Violence was fine in the bedroom, as far as he was concerned; the two of them were fully capable of discussing what they wanted and consenting to it together. But unprompted violence towards his partner? Not acceptable. No matter how much this hurt. No matter how it felt like iron bands were suddenly wrapped around his chest, tightening fast and hard and cruel.

"You're serious." Vox's screen flickered again, the brightness turning up, and his eyes seemed to double in size just for a moment there. Electricity crackled over the backs of his hands, down his neck, and his veins and arteries began to take on a subtle gleam, followed by the larger nerves--a private light, when he was trying too hard to hold something back, that usually only Val got to see, and even then usually only during sex, when Vox was losing the fight against an orgasm.

This couldn't be farther from that.

He stepped back, started to reach up to grab his own head, stopped himself halfway, hands in the air, palms out towards Val as if Valentino were the one who needed to calm down here, not himself.

"Val, are you--are you leaving the Vees? Or are you leaving me? Is it both, are you--does going off to become a better person mean you can't--fucking," he pressed a hand to his forehead now, screen flickering again, "can't fucking be around me? Is that--is that--"

Not helping, he checked himself. He was getting defensive and angry and that wasn't helping.

Vox shoved his emotions back and folded his arms. "Val. Baby. I don't--understand," he quirked an eyebrow, his entire body seeming to hum with electricity even as he held himself as still and composed as he could, trying not to explode, "but I want to be on your side here. What do you... need. From me? To make your goals happen."

It was a dangerous question to ask and he goddamn knew it, because Vox suspected, not so very deep down at all, that he knew what Val was going to say, that this fucking mothpimp was going to walk out that door and take his heart with him.

"I don't want you to leave," he added quickly, "but I won't force you to stay. I'll fight for you. But I won't force you. Have you--you've thought this through? What might happen to you out there? How are you going to--

"What are you going to do with all of your souls?"

His hands curled into fists on the table, the sudden silence between them weighing heavy on his shoulders. But Val didn't say anything else, wanting to give Vox time to process his announcement.

He gritted his teeth when his partner circled the table to get to him, his eyes averted when the other knelt before him and took his hands in his own.

The moth had expected many things. Anger, disbelief, bitterness... but not this. The unexpected tenderness extended to him by his lover was in some way more painful than anything else he could've confronted him with.

He took a deep breath, calming himself.

ཐིཋྀ "It's not that. Nobody is fucking with me, Vox..."

His grimace morphed into a sorrowful expression when he tilted his head to once again look at the other. Not wanting to be a coward.

"... this afterlife... our operation and my part in it... it's just like the mess I got caught up in as a human. I'm doing the same things, over and over... I'm just like... someone I never wanted to resemble. I didn't realize it before because I never knew anything else. The drugs, the sex, the killing... it's not that I don't enjoy those things but they're limiting me. I never found the courage to take a different path while alive, and I kept repeating the same mistakes in death."

for @infinity-cantos, continued from here--

"Uh huh," Blitz said, stirring his drink idly, "right. Thievery is so much cleaner than murder. You just violate people's sense of security and steal their mementos and their fortunes. I deliver them to the afterlife they've earned." He took another drink, getting whip cream all over his upper lip. "Guess neither of us needs to lose any sleep over it, though." Even if it was fun to needle a fellow menace to society about the things they did, Blitz didn't fully believe she was that awful. It was Hell, why wouldn't there be someone ready to take everything good away from you the moment you let your guard down? That was what life was. That was all it was.

It wasn't like happiness was attainable or real, not beyond a fuckin' cute drink with your best friend's face on the cup, or a ten second orgasm, or sleeping in after canceling plans.

Don't get all fuckin' bitter, he told himself, briefly scowling.

Blitz licked his lip, then looked out the window, watching a group of Hellhounds pass by. They looked like tourists up from another ring, probably fascinated by all of the Sinners, all of the chaos of Pride. None of them were Loona, though, and so his interest faded.

Blitz looked back at Kaizaan. "So what's going on? We really run into each other by happenstance here? I probably shouldn't flatter myself by thinking that you need my help for something, so... what gives, am I your next target?"

A crystal, after all, seemed right up her alley. Not that the Asmodean Crystal could be parted from him, it seemed. Blitz had tried. Whether he had his glove on or not, the crystal was always there now, a part of his hand, his body. When he needed it to, he was learning to make it seem to disappear, but it was always there. He could feel its energy entwined with his, feel how intimately they were tied together. Stealing it might not work--at least, not while he was alive.

Sipping at his glittery drink, Blitz studied her eyes, wondering just how far she'd go.

Thankfully, they were far enough out from shore that the waves and the morning breezes probably carried away at least some of Angel's scream, if not most of it, but Blitz still jumped, eyes widening in startlement. He turned to look, closing the portal as he did--

Angel.

Human Angel.

Angel how he was supposed to look, once upon a time. Beautiful and alive, eyes sparkling with vitality even if his upset and precious face was sparkling with seawater. Blitz didn't know if Angel was alive again or if the crystal had just given him a damn good disguise, but either way, he was stunning.... aaaaand they'd just had that discussion about drowning.

Blitz moved over to help him back up onto his surfboard. The imp was still in his demonic form, so he was careful with his claws as he helped pull Angel up. After a moment though, just the briefest hesitation, Blitz touched the crystal again, connecting to the energy that was so deeply a part of him now.

The human disguise took quickly.

Blitz wasn't anywhere near as beautiful as Angel. He was muscular, the build of a fighter so different than the musculature of a dancer. Dark olive skin--save for his burns. Angel might not have known they were burns before, Blitz reflected, but there was no missing it now. His burns scars were thick and dark, an ugly testament to the pain of that survival. He looked down at his hands, at the warped skin that brought back too many memories. Imp-skin took scars more elegantly--almost like Lucifer had made them to suffer, Blitz thought.

"Guess we better look the part." Blitz smiled, albeit a little hesitantly. The mark on his forehead was still there, and his head was clean-shaven, his eyes a rich and inviting maroon with little flecks of gold. He looked sweet--dangerous, sure, he absolutely looked like the kind of guy who could beat a man to death, but there was absolutely a sweetness there, a sincerity.

"I just figured, you know. If we're gonna have a beach week, let's have a few hours where it's real. Where it... doesn't feel so fuckin' hopeless and hollow." He looked back at the lush green hills, at the cliffs rising here and there with patches of golden beach between them. The air smelled incredible, a smell that Hell could never, never compete with. No amount of Bee's brews or confections could be as sweet as this.

Blitz closed his eyes and leaned his head back. It felt strange not to have a tail or horns, but for a little while, it was nice. So nice.

"You okay?"

Most people would probably think that a twink like Angel Dust wouldn't be able to keep up with something this athletic. Joke's on fucking them. Being a stripper and a dancer meant he had plenty of strength, and he didn't even struggle or lose breath as he paddled out, following Blitz. It probably helped that he had extra arms, and way more height than the other, but it wasn't hard to keep up at all.

He stopped when the imp had, sitting up and resting two of his hands back against the surfboard behind him, leaning back as they just, well, bobbed there. Like Blitz had said. Once the other started speaking, Angel raised an eyebrow in confused curiosity, "....ah' ain't got no shrooms or molly or nothin' out here, man, so ah' ain't know how we gonna take a trip." A snort, though his eyes widened as Blitz raised up that crystal and -

"Holy. Fucking. Shit." It took a lot for Angel Dust to be absolutely stunned into silence, but this was one of those moments. It wasn't the Earth that he knew, because he had never been anywhere close to Hawai'i. He was part of the concrete jungle of Brooklyn, the most water access he had being the Hudson River, whenever him or his brother or dad had to throw bodies into it.

But he knew that was Earth. The human world. The world of the living. He hesitated, not even out of fear, but because...what if he couldn't go through that portal? What if he double died? Sinners weren't allowed to leave the Pride Ring. He had obviously never tried it, but. Blitz seemed to go through no problem, but of course he hadn't - he was an imp. He was hellborn. Hellborn didn't have the same limitations as sinners.

But Angel Dust would hate himself if he didn't try. If he double died, so be it he supposed. At least he would get to feel genuine sunlight one last time. He took a huge breath as if steadying himself, before paddling up and towards the portal, pushing himself through it and - oh. Oh. Okay. He wasn't...he wasn't dead. He knew that much. He had closed his eyes far too tightly as he had passed through, but felt the warmth of the sun right away, the lap of the waves on his legs.

It felt....different. Eyes peeking open, one at a time, he laughed lightly, pushing hands through his hair. "Holy crap, that was...what was...wait...." Everything was happening so quickly, but he knew things for certain. Things felt different, because his hair was not just the typical fluff of his body that he had in Hell. It felt more coarse and more curly, and definitely more short. He pulled his hands away, placing them in front of his face and -

Letting out what was a scream that would honestly probably wake up half the island if they were close enough to shore. He literally flipped backwards off the board into the ocean, resurfacing and coughing as it stung and filled his lungs and his heart. His heart. He scrambled to grab onto his board, which was definitely more challenging without his other set of arms, feeling like a fucking newborn doe trying to walk again, clinging desperately. "What th' fuck. WHAT TH' FUCK. BLITZ. WHAT TH' EVA' LOVIN' FUCK DID THAT THING DO."

(Okay but this cutie in a pink bikini top I am dying.)

"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 ? "