[The redhead, a dinner roll shoved in his mouth, nods back silently, busy balancing three plates against his hands as he carefully loads them to the brim. They don't seem to be toppling - maybe he's done this before.
He gives a muffled start of an answer, before stopping, bracing his leg against the buffet counter to free up one of his hands from the plate balancing and remove the bread from his mouth.]
It's not what I usually eat at home, but it's still great. So long as they don't run out, I won't have complaints.
[He then stuffs the entire roll into his mouth and barely seems to chew it before swallowing.]
Should we be jumping for joy? Anyways, I'm not worried, just...
[He lapses into silence. For him, this kind of direct approach is strange, but effective - his brows furrow together, as if he wants to disagree, but he eventually shrugs his shoulders.]
Better to sit in silence together than alone with your thoughts, though. Sometimes.
[He'll lead the way over to the table, carefully depositing all of his extra plates without dropping a single item. Food never deserved to be on the floor. Not if he could help it.]
What's your name? Do you have one? [Asked as he plops himself down into his own chair.]
[He just lifts his brows slightly in the middle of a forkful of some sort of meat. Okay there betty white, eat a snickers before that temper gets you in trouble.]
[Despite how huge he is, Beelzebub can be spotted casually chilling at the top of the cramped little bleachers overlooking the go carts, jacket tied around his waist, a way-too-colorful palm tree tanktop baring his shoulders, and an enormous popcorn bucket filled with nothing but bite-size chocolate chip cookies tucked between his knees.
Whenever Vergilius is out and about exploring, he'll get a wave from the demon atop the bleachers. Hello, hope you're not covered in blood today.
His mouth is full of cookies, but he will gesture for Verg to come sit with him.]
[He is not, this time! He is in...a Hawaiian shirt and black shorts, so at least a new look, even if he does look as bedraggled as ever. With the shorter sleeves and all, one can see more scars crisscrossing over his skin, with no end in sight.]
[He sees Beel waving, before walking closer. Not sitting just yet, but hey, at least he is approaching!]
[Hello from a late night at the buffet where he is... struggling very hard to not eat 50 plates of food. He has only eaten about ten, so this is... progress?? But he looks a little miserable about it.
His eyes flick to Vergilius, then to his plate where he drags around a stray bit of pasta.]
Yeah. I know.
I might have been in a lot of trouble if Temenos and Chuuya hadn't spoken up the way they did.
[Be wary, Beel - you're stepping into a place far beyond this damned resort.]
[The city before you doesn't seem so damned. As your eyes open, you can clearly see the streets you're walking down are decorated, festive, with a bustling and happy crowd. The bright, cheerful lights, the vivid green of pine, the stars, the ornaments.]
[It's Christmas.]
[There's a sack of goodies slung on your shoulders, a merry red hat perched on your head - gifts of your Office members, who had done their best to contribute to a good cause. It's all for the children, of course. Goodies, candies, anything a young eye and bright heart would enjoy.]
[Even with the sword harnessed to your back, it doesn't feel like this is a day for anything dark. Christmas is a day of light, and merriment.]
[Soon you'll exit to a familiar road, and make it to the orphanage. Your weary heart feels light.]
[Oh. Oh, that's disorienting. He was in the middle of a burger, too... but for some reason, he doesn't feel hungry?
When was the last time he remembered doing that?
...
He knows Christmas. Even if the surroundings are unfamiliar, and he isn't sure where he's going, it feels right to feel happy. And he's going to... orphans? To children.
Who is he? He wishes he could see. But he lets himself walk, lets the feeling happen.
It seems... peaceful. Tiring, in a way that he's only felt from Belphegor... But peaceful.]
[It is peaceful, indeed. The air is cool - you don't shiver, but you blow a little exhale into the air, watching it dissipate. The guard lets you out of the main center of the Nest with the show of your ID, and you step into the backroad to the orphanage that has always been so familiar to you.]
[It's quiet. And though it usually gives you relief to get to this part of the road...]
[This time, there's a sense of unease.]
[The snow crunches underneath your feet. You notice something along the road. Random, rough-looking chunks of concrete, with exposed pipes and wires, strewn in front of you, like a crime scene. It looks as though they have been ripped from a building. You step closer.]
[The stains on them are...]
[Blood.]
[You already feel yourself moving. One foot forward. Another. There's no thoughts. The augmented muscle fibers of your legs tighten, crack-]
[And you skyrocket forward like a bullet, covering a great distance in an instant. The ground cracks as you land directly in front of the orphanage.]
[What's....left of the orphanage.]
[There's a wild inhuman wail in the frosty air, the building torn, burning, a bloodstained husk of the lively place of children you once knew. ]
[A horrifying monster of sewn flesh, in a flimsy apron. The human-like faces growing from its mass have tears strewn down their misshapen cheeks. From what you can see through the smog are the sewn words on the apron clumsily sticking out like a sore thumb:]
["LOVE <3 TOWN".]
[And in its giant paw is one of the residents of the orphanage, lifeless, bloody, her hand loosely holding an axe. She must have tried to attack it. She must have tried to do her best to save the others.]
[But as you watch, your breath caught in your throat in shock, the monster lifts her...]
She's a dainty little wisp. An angel. Just like the rest of you. You know she's sneaking down to them. Down to humanity. Down to the human she loves so deeply. You've never seen her so happy.
An angel shouldn't attach. An angel can only choose one human to guard. You all know this isn't what has happened. But you don't intervene. She's happy. You love to see her happy. There's so much discontent in the heavens, and it's reaching a peak. But at least Lilith can be happy. Your precious little sister. The youngest of the eight.
And then it changes.
Your Father intervenes. You remember the echo of his voice, the judgement, the power that can't be looked on directly. Lilith had disobeyed. Lilith, loving and stubborn and courageous and defiant Lilith, had seen her human suffering to what all humans would suffer with. The touch of disease. The knowledge of death.
She had intervened. Food from the Celestial Realm, is what the archangels say. Forbidden in the mouth of man.
She has sinned. And a sinner cannot belong in the space of your Father.
Lilith will be erased.
And that alone is the catalyst you all need to start a war.
---
You're not sure how long you've been fighting. You've always been known for your strength. A Cherubim, a guardian of the gates of heaven, now forcing your way through those you would have called brothers and sisters, snapping bows, parrying swords, tossing the angelic from their steeds. You are a protector. You are here to keep your own standing against what feels like the inevitable. It's your job, for them.
Behind you, you feel the presence of your second half. Your younger twin, Belphegor, who was never made for battle, but fights regardless. You feel his exhaustion, his bitterness, an echo in the back of your head, a telepathic connection.
And to your other side, you see Lilith. She fights regardless of all of the protests of her elder brothers. She circles back to the both of you often. The three of you have always been inseparable. Always. Always.
You advance in one direction. Belphie in another. Lilith, in a third.
And then you see the arrows.
It must be a final volley. They're pushing forward too fast now. But the bows are aimed, and you know you don't have the speed to stop it. Neither do your siblings.
One. Only one. You can make it to Belphegor. Or to Lilith.
...
The arrows shoot, and you run, grabbing your younger brother and pulling him to safety as the arrows fly, tumbling you both through the blood-scented air. He stays prone. But you...
You see her. She sees you. Her face drops, in disbelief, in pain, in anguish that bleeds over her face once the arrow hits her through the wings.
And like that, she drops from the heavens in a trail of blood.
You scream her name. You hear Belphegor in suit. But the two of you are both overwhelmed in your moment of grief, swords on top of you, bows pointed, hands grabbing at your shoulders.
And you fall.
Out of the light of heaven, past the reaches of earth, down until only darkness envelops you. It sheds your wings away like knives to the skin, twists at your bones, at the temples of your head, the crux of your shoulders, the center of your gut. A thorny, heavy grip. A changing of yourself, as the pitch-black ground approaches far too fast.
You have sinned.
You have lost her for it. You have protected nothing.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
WEEK 0 DAY 1
[He does notice a young man over here, so he just nods at him.]
...They sure prepared everything for us, huh.
no subject
He gives a muffled start of an answer, before stopping, bracing his leg against the buffet counter to free up one of his hands from the plate balancing and remove the bread from his mouth.]
It's not what I usually eat at home, but it's still great. So long as they don't run out, I won't have complaints.
[He then stuffs the entire roll into his mouth and barely seems to chew it before swallowing.]
You in the mood for anything specific?
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[This sure is some kind of show. The dish balancing act gets him to stare for a moment, before heaving a sigh.]
Not really. Being kidnapped doesn't do wonders for the appetite. Unlike some people, I suppose.
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You're worried, then.
Not having an appetite isn't good. Maybe talking about it will help. We can't do much if we don't stay fed.
[He cocks his head towards one of the tables. There's already a growing stack of empty plates.]
Sit with me. I can share if you start to feel better, but there's no pressure.
no subject
[He lapses into silence. For him, this kind of direct approach is strange, but effective - his brows furrow together, as if he wants to disagree, but he eventually shrugs his shoulders.]
I'm not a talker. But fine.
no subject
Better to sit in silence together than alone with your thoughts, though. Sometimes.
[He'll lead the way over to the table, carefully depositing all of his extra plates without dropping a single item. Food never deserved to be on the floor. Not if he could help it.]
What's your name? Do you have one? [Asked as he plops himself down into his own chair.]
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[BINCH]
[Okay, no, he's just kneejerk reflex mean, he is moving to sit down across from him.]
Vergilius. You?
no subject
Bhrrzhrgrbb. [Oh, whoops. Swallowing.] Mngh--Sorry. Beelzebub.
Some things don't have names, or don't remember them. Or they just call themselves "Raptor". I don't like to guess.
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Beelzebub. [He recognizes no connection with that name. Sure is a name.] Raptor...like one of our esteemed hosts, you mean? You talked to them?
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No. Not outside what I heard at that meeting. They remind me a little too much of a brother of mine, and I hadn't eaten enough to deal with that.
I talked to the other one, though. The one on the speakers... uh. Ho Oh. Something.
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WEEK 2 - WEDNESDAY
Whenever Vergilius is out and about exploring, he'll get a wave from the demon atop the bleachers. Hello, hope you're not covered in blood today.
His mouth is full of cookies, but he will gesture for Verg to come sit with him.]
no subject
[He sees Beel waving, before walking closer. Not sitting just yet, but hey, at least he is approaching!]
...Thanks. For the help.
WEEK 2 POST TRIAL
[Guess who is doing the Stern Dad(TM) Stare Complete with Folded Arms. HI.]
You should be glad it wasn't you.
no subject
His eyes flick to Vergilius, then to his plate where he drags around a stray bit of pasta.]
Yeah. I know.
I might have been in a lot of trouble if Temenos and Chuuya hadn't spoken up the way they did.
no subject
[His red eyes are taking the stack of plates into account, but he's not commenting on them, focusing back on Beel. He sure looks miserable.]
People can take advantage of what you are. I'm sure you know.
no subject
[He nods, though it's brief.]
Mn.
There's only so much I can do. If I hadn't been honest, I would have just made myself sound unhelpful. But I don't like talking about it that much.
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Because you feel other people will judge you?
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I don't care how people view me for my sin. I can't change it. I know myself better than anyone.
...I just don't like to be treated like an animal.
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[He closes his eyes.]
Have you told that to others who do that to you?
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[The pasta is stabbed and finally brought to his mouth.]
Sometimes it's not worth it, though.
You've got your reasons for not talking about being covered in blood, right?
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[He lets out a sigh.]
I was put into a situation I did not want or expect. In the end it's my problem.
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WEEK 5 MEMSHARE
[The city before you doesn't seem so damned. As your eyes open, you can clearly see the streets you're walking down are decorated, festive, with a bustling and happy crowd. The bright, cheerful lights, the vivid green of pine, the stars, the ornaments.]
[It's Christmas.]
[There's a sack of goodies slung on your shoulders, a merry red hat perched on your head - gifts of your Office members, who had done their best to contribute to a good cause. It's all for the children, of course. Goodies, candies, anything a young eye and bright heart would enjoy.]
[Even with the sword harnessed to your back, it doesn't feel like this is a day for anything dark. Christmas is a day of light, and merriment.]
[Soon you'll exit to a familiar road, and make it to the orphanage. Your weary heart feels light.]
[You can't wait to see their smiling faces.]
no subject
When was the last time he remembered doing that?
...
He knows Christmas. Even if the surroundings are unfamiliar, and he isn't sure where he's going, it feels right to feel happy. And he's going to... orphans? To children.
Who is he? He wishes he could see. But he lets himself walk, lets the feeling happen.
It seems... peaceful. Tiring, in a way that he's only felt from Belphegor... But peaceful.]
cw: fleshy body horror, gore, death, blood
[It's quiet. And though it usually gives you relief to get to this part of the road...]
[This time, there's a sense of unease.]
[The snow crunches underneath your feet. You notice something along the road. Random, rough-looking chunks of concrete, with exposed pipes and wires, strewn in front of you, like a crime scene. It looks as though they have been ripped from a building. You step closer.]
[The stains on them are...]
[Blood.]
[You already feel yourself moving. One foot forward. Another. There's no thoughts. The augmented muscle fibers of your legs tighten, crack-]
[And you skyrocket forward like a bullet, covering a great distance in an instant. The ground cracks as you land directly in front of the orphanage.]
[What's....left of the orphanage.]
[There's a wild inhuman wail in the frosty air, the building torn, burning, a bloodstained husk of the lively place of children you once knew. ]
[And on top of the building is a monster.]
[A horrifying monster of sewn flesh, in a flimsy apron. The human-like faces growing from its mass have tears strewn down their misshapen cheeks. From what you can see through the smog are the sewn words on the apron clumsily sticking out like a sore thumb:]
["LOVE <3 TOWN".]
[And in its giant paw is one of the residents of the orphanage, lifeless, bloody, her hand loosely holding an axe. She must have tried to attack it. She must have tried to do her best to save the others.]
[But as you watch, your breath caught in your throat in shock, the monster lifts her...]
[And moves to snap her into two.]
WEEK 5 MEMSHARE PART 2
She's a dainty little wisp. An angel. Just like the rest of you. You know she's sneaking down to them. Down to humanity. Down to the human she loves so deeply. You've never seen her so happy.
An angel shouldn't attach. An angel can only choose one human to guard. You all know this isn't what has happened. But you don't intervene. She's happy. You love to see her happy. There's so much discontent in the heavens, and it's reaching a peak. But at least Lilith can be happy. Your precious little sister. The youngest of the eight.
And then it changes.
Your Father intervenes. You remember the echo of his voice, the judgement, the power that can't be looked on directly. Lilith had disobeyed. Lilith, loving and stubborn and courageous and defiant Lilith, had seen her human suffering to what all humans would suffer with. The touch of disease. The knowledge of death.
She had intervened. Food from the Celestial Realm, is what the archangels say. Forbidden in the mouth of man.
She has sinned. And a sinner cannot belong in the space of your Father.
Lilith will be erased.
And that alone is the catalyst you all need to start a war.
---
You're not sure how long you've been fighting. You've always been known for your strength. A Cherubim, a guardian of the gates of heaven, now forcing your way through those you would have called brothers and sisters, snapping bows, parrying swords, tossing the angelic from their steeds. You are a protector. You are here to keep your own standing against what feels like the inevitable. It's your job, for them.
Behind you, you feel the presence of your second half. Your younger twin, Belphegor, who was never made for battle, but fights regardless. You feel his exhaustion, his bitterness, an echo in the back of your head, a telepathic connection.
And to your other side, you see Lilith. She fights regardless of all of the protests of her elder brothers. She circles back to the both of you often. The three of you have always been inseparable. Always. Always.
You advance in one direction. Belphie in another. Lilith, in a third.
And then you see the arrows.
It must be a final volley. They're pushing forward too fast now. But the bows are aimed, and you know you don't have the speed to stop it. Neither do your siblings.
One. Only one. You can make it to Belphegor. Or to Lilith.
...
The arrows shoot, and you run, grabbing your younger brother and pulling him to safety as the arrows fly, tumbling you both through the blood-scented air. He stays prone. But you...
You see her. She sees you. Her face drops, in disbelief, in pain, in anguish that bleeds over her face once the arrow hits her through the wings.
And like that, she drops from the heavens in a trail of blood.
You scream her name. You hear Belphegor in suit. But the two of you are both overwhelmed in your moment of grief, swords on top of you, bows pointed, hands grabbing at your shoulders.
And you fall.
Out of the light of heaven, past the reaches of earth, down until only darkness envelops you. It sheds your wings away like knives to the skin, twists at your bones, at the temples of your head, the crux of your shoulders, the center of your gut. A thorny, heavy grip. A changing of yourself, as the pitch-black ground approaches far too fast.
You have sinned.
You have lost her for it. You have protected nothing.
It's your fault.]