dredgenshrike-defunct

[dredgenshrike-defunct]

moved to @gevaud4n

[dredgenshrike-defunct]

moved to @gevaud4n

[dredgenshrike-defunct]

moved to @gevaud4n

[dredgenshrike-defunct]

Indefinite hiatus

This blog- and my others, save for maybe my ffxiv one, im going to take a hiatus from.

I have to step back and really decide if this is the community I want to interact with. Some things that have happened have driven my want to even share my characters online out of me, and so im going to be spotty or not here at all for a while.

It might be for a day. It might be for a week. Maybe its even a permanent leave. I don't know. But until next time, love you <3

[dredgenshrike-defunct]

Hex was getting impatient, bored even, desensitized to all the blood and gore Shrike left in his wake with every victim. He helped pretty willingly now, too, and not only with the alarm systems. But all the toying the other kept on this time was going on his nerves - maybe he snorted a little too much...

While Shrike was kneeling down over the woman, he ran his fingers upward through Shrike's hair on the back of the head, raising the hood of the mask. Like a cat, he gently, deliberately, knocked it off of the other's head, letting out a faux gasp of surprise.

"Oh, my... Seems like she saw your face..." Hex let his hand move down the back of Shrike's neck and down his back. He reached for the knife tucked behind the other's belt and slid it out, the blade shining in the kitchen lamp. The woman, despite her sorry state - a broken wrist and cut tendons in both legs, started to again plead with the two of them.

Hex stepped over to her and crouched on the opposite side to Shrike. He raised his mask as well, revealing a smirk, his eyes fixated on the other man. The woman grabbed at the front of Hex's shirt though, pleading to be left alone, gaining his attention, and he smiled at her sweetly. "Don't worry, it will only hurt... quite a lot."

He tore her hand away, eliciting a scream of pain from the injury, and grabbed her by the hair. "Now, smile to the audience, darling~" Holding her head as still as it could get with her thrashing about, he slid the knife into the corner of her mouth and dragged it towards her cheek, slashing the skin into a gruesome smile. Then he did the same with the other corner among agonizing screams of the victim, skin flapping every time she opened her mouth.

Pleased, Hex handed the knife over to Shrike and let go of the woman's hair, letting her try and crawl away in the pool of blood that was forming underneath her. "Finish the job?" He smiled even more sweetly, pupils constricted into tiny pins.

Shrike gasped quietly as his mask was knocked off, grabbing for it with one of his free hands but falling short. He glared at Hex- his gaze venomous, glinting gold as he got off of the girl, crossing his arms to let Hex do what he wanted even if she was practically already dead.

He loved the other. Loved the life they were living- the drugs, the murder- having someone else beside him to share in all of it. However, Hex could be an ass, and a massive one at that. Shrike has begun to have an inkling of a feeling that he did it on purpose, to press his buttons in just the right way, for the right reaction. Still- he loved how the other looked when killing. He leaned back a little, crossing his arms, and when Hex relinquished the knife to him- he took it back, winding his fingers around the handle.

He nudged the other off to the other side, winding fingers in her hair and leaning down, taking out a camera. The red light at the corner began to beep with a recording, and he set the tip of the knife at the nape of her neck, listening to the choked cries-

Before he pushed the knife in and drug it down her spine.

The scream cut off into garbled cries. Shrike made sure to get that- and the blood, covering knife, floor and body on tape aswell. He stopped recording, putting the knife back into his belt and the camera aswell, getting up before looking back to Hex, the same glare in his eyes.

Shrike was quick to grab his chin, fingers still smeared with blood, getting it all over the other. "You pull that shit again, you'll be the one on film next time," he growled- though he was sure it was what Hex wanted. He leaned back down to grab his mask, tilting it over to look at it, covered in blood now. He shook his head, hooking it alongside the other two itens on his belt, before nodding towards the door. "I can deal with you more later. We need to leave. Cops will be here soon..."

[dredgenshrike-defunct]

A steel sword dug into the dirt, polished to near perfection before it had been so dirtied- a Rapier to be exact, in it's form.

When they had come to the forest, it was almost as if wildlife had stopped singing. Perhaps it sensed what was happening- who was there- and that it was not Alaric, nor any one close to him. No, rather, it was military forces, come to seige the forest in turn for finding one of their dead there.

Seraph had always held little love for warriors who stepped out of line- who did not take their posts seriously and left at the first hint of something more... curious. However, he also knew that he had an image to uphold. Under the eye of those that he had sworn protection too- claiming far better than city walls- they would need an example made of the one who had taken one of his soldiers, whether he was happy they had wandered or not. He would need to disregard personal feelings to assure that no, there was not some boogie man in the woods, it was either a Guardian- or a an animal. Either could be killed.

And now... as he gazed upon the corpse of one of his own men- he was ready to make due on that promise. Seraph sighed, swinging a hand out, nodding to one half of his men. "One group spread out, see if you can find him. Move in pairs." He ordered. "As for the rest of ye, tend to the corpse. He has friends and family- make sure none see the state of him when ye take him back."

Seraph watched the groups divide, making sure all the soldiers going to search the woods kept to a pair, or a trio. It would be foolish to send them out on their own... Lest they be picked off one by one. Among the crows though, he spotted one much shorter- draped in reds and trying (and failing) to hide a symbol on his armor. Seraph sighed softly, and walked to grab him by the shoulder.

"Samael." He reminded, as the smaller Warlock tensed up. "Go back home. It's too dangerous." He stared Samael down when the other turned, staring up at him- but choked down whatever remark he was going to make, sighing and leaving, muttering a 'fine.' Seraph sent someone after him to ensure he did go- and then turned. To join those in the woods, then? But he, atleast, would go by himself. He had enough of an ego to allow him to think himself above whoever had done the act of violence- besides, he had killed worse, he was sure.

@dredgenshrike

Alaric raised his head, eyes closed, his heart pounding against the cage of his chest. Soft sunlight, filtered through thick crowns of the trees, warmed up his face and he exhaled deeply - a small puff of condensation dissipated with a gust of wind. The area was slowly warming up again, the thin film of dark frost melting into droplets, to then slide off of the brush and soak into the equally dark ground.

The Warlock finally opened his eyes again and looked down at his hands, one still gripping a dagger, the pale skin stained with thick crimson. It dripped down, drop by drop, to meet with the now still body it came from. He stared at the sprawled, limp limbs idly, his mind hazy from the adrenaline the kill brought.

He nudged the body with his boot and turned it over, revealing the singed armor and crackled skin on the man’s face. The stench of burned meat hit Alaric’s nostrils and he grimaced, scrunching his nose. But the displeased expression wasn’t only caused by the smell - he had realized who the poor bastard was, or at least where he came from…

Alaric knew that there was a… force, slowly encroaching on his territory but didn’t think anyone would dare to stray as far into the forest. Now, the man paid the price for it, and the Warlock was going to make an example out of him.

What anyone who came looking for the lost soul found wasn’t a pleasant sight. The man was strung up to a tree by his arms, a rope with all the ornaments and sigils stripped off from the victim, tied around them and his throat. The eyeless face was turned up to the sky, mouth opened in a caricature of a scream that Alaric forced on the already stiffening muscles. Inside the bloody hole shone one of the golden ornaments, too. The armor was cracked open in the middle, ribs broken outwards like a nightmarish line of teeth, showing the empty cavern where the heart would be.

A clear sign to not repeat the mistake of trying to step on Alaric’s land.

[dredgenshrike-defunct]

Shrike listened quietly, to the man speak. He looked down at the bottle when Drifter gestured with it, his antenna pricking upwards. His head tilted ever so slightly- drawn in more and more by his offers of pretty places and tales.

If he had a weakness for anything (besides dogs and men who could follow his line of work easily,), it was for exploring- figuring out what he could through the marks left on places, leaving his own occasionally. He had always enjoyed leaving a mark on his environment- on those around him- kinder ones for friends. Darker ones on his enemies and targets. The idea of Drifter also spending time to tell him the local stories of some of those places? Shrike purred out loud.

"Of course, of course. Couldn't you have guessed that any ghost would turn tail from me?" He chuckled, before taking another large gulp of his drink. "I mean, they don't have the guts to face me..." despite the fact the joke was rather awful and not that clear at all, Shrike still let out some chuffs at it- even if it was his own. His tail thumped against the ground behind him, happy, amused even.

The alcohol was starting to wear on him. Evem if slurring his words was something the technology of his body never quite mimicked right- it definitely still allowed Shrike to be a sleepy drunk.

Without much thought to his actions, he leaned before flopping gently onto Drifter's legs, shifting the rest of his body with the action. His tail laid over his waist, and he began to purr loudly. Surely, those listening to the vents would begin to think that something was wrong in them, or that animals had made their nest, but in reality it was just an exo, who seemed to forget his own volume with the inebriation- or the fact that he was supposed to hate Drifter.

The bottle laid at his side- apparently.. it was empty. Shrike could take quite a large drink at once and the bottles were just about nothing to him without pacing. But anyways, he moved his hand to at first mess with Drifter's coat, before he shifted once more, and began to knead at where he was lying, making biscuits into the surface gently. "Comfy pillow," only the ending part was heard- two words though it was clear he said more, just that they were muttered and inaudible.

"You know, you've got all these places you hide out in... none of 'em look comfy." Shrike started. "Why have you never, I don't know...found somewhere more homey?"

dredgenshrike​:

Shrike’s legs dangle over the edge as he thinks, his tail curled delicately around himself. Well… He supposed Drifter was a much… older Guardian than himself. Maybe not a physical age wise- he wasn’t even sure if he had a proper physical age, but Drifter had lived for much longer than Shrike had, if he had to guess.

He thought to himself it was a little unfair, because Drifter had much more time to find spots, and special little places. That wasn’t to say the Hunter didn’t have atleast a few, though.

“Runswick has a mountain range behind it. it’s the one-” he made a noise that sounded half between a hiccup and half between a very doggish sneeze, and shook his head before continuing- gesturing with his bottle idly. “The one Beagle’s farm is set into. You go through those paths- only available by foot or horse, the roads too thin at some points and too crowded for sparrows, but you come out on a cliff. That’s one of my favorite spots, filled to the brim with wildflowers and overlooks plenty of beautiful places.”

He props his knee up, thinking of more. “I guess… I’ve always had an odd love for the old abandoned highways out in Old America. And the EDZ- just something about seeing the ruins of a nation that thought itself eternal I guess…” He quiets, before shrugging, taking a large gulp of his whiskey.

“I wonder if maybe the City will face something like that one day. Of course, I’m sure most of the people and Guardians here are acutely aware of how fleeting peace can be…” Shrike looks back at Drifter, tilting his head. “I’ll have to take you up on that offer of the ocean view at some point though. I’ve always loved it, even if I can’t really…swim.” Oh- and there he was entertaining the same idea that Drifter had. That they’d spend more time together. “Maybe…if you show me that, I can show you some of my own- maybe not forests since most are similar but… I have a few of my own little holes around the system. Places I hide out, depending on what kind of view you’d want to see…Maybe I could even bring my dogs again.”

Oh, Drifter was old, older than most, and the years took a toll on him surely, but it was true - he had much more time to find interesting places all around the System. Especially after returning from the outside of it…

He chuckled quietly at the funny sound Shrike made, finding it quite adorable. The Exo started to grow on him again, just like in the old times, even though they were two completely different people now… Well, Drifter wasn’t that much different when it came to having enemies - Runswick crawled with people that did not like him and that he did not like either, and who were not afraid of him like they would be of Shrike. As pretty as the area was… He wasn’t willing to show his face anywhere close to there, and he wasn’t sure Beagle would be happy about it either.

The Rouge could understand the sentiment Shrike expressed about the ruins though. There was something beautifully haunting in them, and stood as a reminder and a warning for anyone who stopped to think about what happened. And what could happen again.

“Ya don’t need to swim, don’t worry. ‘M not a great swimmer either, to be honest.” Drifter could stay afloat and make some distance but rather in the shallows. “’Sounds like a deal, though. ’S long as ya won’t try to make your dogs kill me with love again, would love to see ‘em.” Drifter chuckled and took another sip. The alcohol was warming him up nicely from the inside, making his head buzz pleasantly, though he could slowly notice his words were getting slurry. But it was alright, for once in good company (against all that he expected in the beginning), and without nightmares looming in the shadows.

“But!” Drifter raised his bottle to punctuate his next sentence: “If ya like ruins so much, we should go to China. Both the big cities and the small villages are just stunnin’. I can tell ya some folk stories too.” He grinned, nudging Shrike with an elbow. “‘Less ya scared of ghosts.”

The Rouge took another swig of alcohol and leaned in conspiratorially, wide smirk on his lips. “Though, I guess they would be more scared of ya, if we were to see one.”

[dredgenshrike-defunct]

Asmodeus leaned into the touch at his cheek, sighing softly. It was more a movement in his head than anywhere else- honestly, the way he had moved, he was in pain and sore, and he didn't feel at all like he wanted to lean back up. So he stayed there, draped over Phaust, listening to the other speak with no longer bated breath.

"Of course," he said quietly, finally reaching up with his good arm to hold Phaust's hand to his cheek. He felt... tired. Perhaps he should not have been moving too much- he had surely opened some parts of his wound, but not enoigh to worry... if anything was to worry about, it would be how long he'd probably set back his recovery by so much activity so fast...

"I don't want to lose you either. But in turn with me telling you... if you are ever truly unhappy here, with me... if I take too long or whatever reason, I don't want you to put yourself into misery to stay by my side." Sure- it would near kill him if Phaust left. But the other had already practically rejected his role as a knight of the cause... which led to another thought. Asmodeus seemed to perk from the sudden melancholy feeling, and leaned a little closer, even through a wince.

He pressed a gentle kiss to Phaust's chin. "I know you no longer want... a part in what I am doing. But you know... you can still be my knight, if you wish." His next kiss was at the corner of Phaust's lips- unfortunately, the taste of copper of blood still lingered in his own mouth, and he wasn't sure if it would be the most pleasant for Phaust to kiss him... "My personal one, not for me, as a king... but for me, as a lover. Besides..." He smiled, half weakly. "I am sure you have seen why this Warlock would need such a strong man, as you are..."

dredgenshrike​:

Asmodeus sniffled, listening to Phaust quietly. The reassurance that Phaust would not leave him, even if he had offered, relaxed him just a little, his shoulders drooping from being entirely tensed up. The kiss made his nose scrunch up but not in a bad way- oh, if Phaust had taken his offer and left… he wasn’t sure how he would go on. There was no one else like him in their world, the only Guardian who could heal what Asmodeus had so much troublr with.

And there he was…working his magic once more. Despite the pain in his side, as Asmodeus’s face contorted into sadness- he let out a sob, and nearly dove at Phaust. The pain shot through him white hot and it added to the tears- yet it didn’t compare to being able to still hold his lover, to have him in his corner still.

The idea of the brood not being who he was- of him… finding things out once more, changing, made fear ring like bells in his head and yet… “Only with you,” He murmurred. “If you… truly want to stay by my side, to discover yourself.. alongside me. Together. Then I will…” He paused, to get a hold of his voice again, his eyes closing. “I will stay by your side and put in my own effort. I don’t…. I don’t know if my life will ever be able to seperate from the brood but whether it does, or whether it doesn’t, I know that I only feel right when I’m by your side, and I want to stay like that. As long as I can,” He leaned up, raising the arm on the side of his body that wasn’t injured to gently brush away Phaust’s hair from his face. “If you’d allow me. If you’d help me with it.”

The abrupt movement surprised Phaust but he held Asmodeus as best as possible without touching the injured side, his heart brimming with happiness, so sudden that it felt like it was about to burst. All the grief and fear was outshined by the brightness of hope that broke through once more - hope that they will be alright, that they were going to navigate this crisis of faith together… And any hardships that would come from it in the future.

Phaust smiled gently at Asmodeus, enjoying the touch, and closed his eyes. “Of course, Love.” He pressed his forehead against the other’s with a lighthearted chuckle. “I will help you as best as I can.” Even though he had no idea in what direction they were headed, they were headed there together. “As long as you want me to…”

He leaned back slightly to look into the other’s eyes again, the smile leaving his lips and his tone becoming a little more serious: “But you have to promise that if you decide it’s not for you… you will tell me. No matter how long it will take you to decide that, I want to know. No matter how much effort we will put into it already… It won’t change my feelings but we can’t lie to each other with something so important… To each other and to ourselves.“ Maybe it will turn out Phaust himself won’t be able to live a normal life, but as long as they will stay open about it, it would be fine.

The Titan stroked Asmodeus’ cheek with the free hand that couldn’t rest on the injured side. “I don’t want to lose you.”

[dredgenshrike-defunct]

Shrike's legs dangle over the edge as he thinks, his tail curled delicately around himself. Well... He supposed Drifter was a much... older Guardian than himself. Maybe not a physical age wise- he wasn't even sure if he had a proper physical age, but Drifter had lived for much longer than Shrike had, if he had to guess.

He thought to himself it was a little unfair, because Drifter had much more time to find spots, and special little places. That wasn't to say the Hunter didn't have atleast a few, though.

"Runswick has a mountain range behind it. it's the one-" he made a noise that sounded half between a hiccup and half between a very doggish sneeze, and shook his head before continuing- gesturing with his bottle idly. "The one Beagle's farm is set into. You go through those paths- only available by foot or horse, the roads too thin at some points and too crowded for sparrows, but you come out on a cliff. That's one of my favorite spots, filled to the brim with wildflowers and overlooks plenty of beautiful places."

He props his knee up, thinking of more. "I guess... I've always had an odd love for the old abandoned highways out in Old America. And the EDZ- just something about seeing the ruins of a nation that thought itself eternal I guess..." He quiets, before shrugging, taking a large gulp of his whiskey.

"I wonder if maybe the City will face something like that one day. Of course, I'm sure most of the people and Guardians here are acutely aware of how fleeting peace can be..." Shrike looks back at Drifter, tilting his head. "I'll have to take you up on that offer of the ocean view at some point though. I've always loved it, even if I can't really...swim." Oh- and there he was entertaining the same idea that Drifter had. That they'd spend more time together. "Maybe...if you show me that, I can show you some of my own- maybe not forests since most are similar but... I have a few of my own little holes around the system. Places I hide out, depending on what kind of view you'd want to see...Maybe I could even bring my dogs again."

dredgenshrike​:

Shrike could atleast be thankful for the other making sure to lift it more. Scrambling under it wasn’t ideal and if push came to shove… Well, he could just probably tear through the metal, but then Drifter would probably want glimmer to fix it and if he was being honest? Maybe it was the alcohol, but he didn’t quite feel like ruining anything when they had such a nice moment on the horizon, or so it seemed.

He listened to the whistling idly, suddenly very aware how quiet the Annex usually was without it. Sure- the chatter of fallen occasionally bounced off of the walls, but other than that, it was pretty silent. He was glad for Drifter filling that, it kept his mind off his own thoughts. Kept him from sinking where he wasn’t sure if his mood would perk up again from. He watched Drifter jump the bar though, and also watched for a moment, wondering if he’d really make the jump or not. He was almost glad he did- Shrike never liked the loud thumps of Guardians falling from the wall, surprisingly. He jumped up aftwr Drifter, almost slipping but he dug his claws in, making deep streaks in the metal but keeping his balance. He leaned up once more to chase Drifter around the corner, his own cloak flaring and dissappearing from anyone who may have been watching.

Shrike sat beside him carefully, taking in the view. His optics shut off as if he was closing his eyes for a moment- letting the air wash over him. It was, atleast, a little sobering. He shook his head though, looking over at Drifter as they flickered back on. “To being alive,” he chuffed, peeling out the cork with his claw before raising his own bottle and clinking it with Drifter’s.

He took a rather large gulp of his bottle, looking out over the city. “I forgot how pretty the City is from above.” Shrike was rarely in the tower anymore- even if he was let back in. “I find I’ve gotten far more used to… views where the lights would all be trees. Forests and such…” Oh- what he was saying was definitely not the most coherent, but he hoped what he meant got through anyways. “You have any favorite views? ‘Sides this one, if it’s one of them…”

Drifter could understand why people loved forests but he had enough of them during Dark Ages, as a Dredgen… Greenery only reminded him of those sorry times and the sorry state of everything and everyone, including himself. The City and the Tower weren’t his favorite either but at least there was some resemblance of humanity in them. Civilization. Maybe even peace.

“Yeah, this one’s of my favorite.” Drifter took a gulp out of the bottle, a couple drops dripping down his beard. He wiped them with the back of his hand. “When I sit here… everything and everyone is small and I am the one looking down on them.” ‘Them’ was really everybody and no one at all - Guardians that came to play Gambit, those who sneered at the mere idea of it, the Vanguard, Aunor… nameless faces passing him by on the street. He knew people didn’t like him and that they did have good reasons but one thing that always got to him was contempt.

For a moment, it seemed he wasn’t going to answer the question beyond what he already said, his eyes scanning the City. Then, Drifter moved slightly, as if pulled out of deep thought, and smiled at Shrike. “There is one but it’s not really a view in itself. More a place… reminding me of someone who does not remember me anymore.” Orin and Drifter spent long hours talking there before she left. Though, it didn’t hurt anymore as much and he continued on, leaving the past behind: “Otherwise, gotta lots of other spots, most to stargaze. Here the light pollution is too much in the way.” He took another gulp, his eyebrows raising in the middle of it, remembering something. “If ya like oceans, I got real nice cliff I like to go to sometimes. ‘Specially during storms!”

Drifter seemed to be getting really animated about the topic, and he made a broad gesture with one hand up towards the sky. “All the starts seem so close there, and the waves crashing in the dark… It’s just so beautiful. Like nothing else exists, but me and this little piece of nature.” He took another sip and rested his head back to look up. “And I prefer to look at space from afar now… Had enough of it for another five hundred years.”

He turned his head to glance at Shrike briefly. “You got any special spots? Views you like? Aside of trees.” 

[dredgenshrike-defunct]

Asmodeus sniffled, listening to Phaust quietly. The reassurance that Phaust would not leave him, even if he had offered, relaxed him just a little, his shoulders drooping from being entirely tensed up. The kiss made his nose scrunch up but not in a bad way- oh, if Phaust had taken his offer and left... he wasn't sure how he would go on. There was no one else like him in their world, the only Guardian who could heal what Asmodeus had so much troublr with.

And there he was...working his magic once more. Despite the pain in his side, as Asmodeus's face contorted into sadness- he let out a sob, and nearly dove at Phaust. The pain shot through him white hot and it added to the tears- yet it didn't compare to being able to still hold his lover, to have him in his corner still.

The idea of the brood not being who he was- of him... finding things out once more, changing, made fear ring like bells in his head and yet... "Only with you," He murmurred. "If you... truly want to stay by my side, to discover yourself.. alongside me. Together. Then I will..." He paused, to get a hold of his voice again, his eyes closing. "I will stay by your side and put in my own effort. I don't.... I don't know if my life will ever be able to seperate from the brood but whether it does, or whether it doesn't, I know that I only feel right when I'm by your side, and I want to stay like that. As long as I can," He leaned up, raising the arm on the side of his body that wasn't injured to gently brush away Phaust's hair from his face. "If you'd allow me. If you'd help me with it."

dredgenshrike​:

Asmodeus let him touch him, this time. Whether it was a conscious decision or he just couldn’t put more energy into moving away was unclear. He didn’t move to change his mind after Phaust- to chase him down, but just sat there instead. He tucked his head deeper.

This wasn’t what he had picture. He had wanted an easy relationship, he guessed. Him, the king; Phaust, his knight. And yet… it had not become that. When they were both so in control, so high off their own egos, he guessed it was easy to look at things as being on their side. But the truth was so much different. Both of them were men who had gone through extremely life-changing events and their time on the Dreadnaughts, even while maybe being at the top of the foodchain, had been nothing short of traumatic for either of them. Asmodeus and Phaust had both suffered at the hands of Oryx- and though it felt like bile in his throat to admit, Asmodeus’ sense of self was breaking with that realization.

If it had been so terrible- then who was he to continue to try and enact the terrible cycle? Would it not be more pain for both of them in the end? What if another Mephisto and Forneus got dragged in? And what of Phaust? Would it be even more for him especially- who seemed to have suffered more from the Taken King’s control than even he? But without that cycle… he wasn’t sure who he even was, in the end.

It took a long while for Asmodeus to calm down, for him to be able to cope with everything. He rubbed his eyes, dried his cheeks and cut his sobs before standing. He shouldn’t have been trying to really- pain searing into his side, but he needed… he wanted Phaust. He was mad at him maybe, sad, but Phaust was his boyfriend. His best sense of comfort.

His weight pressed into the Titan’s side as he slid down beside him. He leaned his heas onto his shoulder, trying to think of what to say, of what to do. It was an even longer while before he came up with anything of substance- and before he could speak it out loud at that.

“I love you, Phaust,” He said softly, his voice still wobbly. “I love you so much, but I just…” His voice began to get more high-pitched- as tears began to come again. He paused, biting at his bottom lip before he could settle himself enough to speak once more. “I have worked for this for so long. I’ve nearly died for it on multiple occassions. I have given up so, so much.” He hiccuped with the start of another sob. “If I don’t have this, if I forget it all happened then what… what was it all for? If I lose this all then all that I have put into it won’t be worth it anymote and I’ll have upheaved my entire life for nothing.”

Asmodeus went quiet once more, moving his hands to fold them in his lap and looking away. “I understand if you want to leave.” His voice came timid, as if he was scared it would shatter the air around him. “I understand if the life you want- isn’t found in me. It wasn’t for Mephisto and Forneus either…” He slowly shifted, looking at Phaust. “I… I have loved you. I have always loved you. I want you…” His hands shoom as he raised them, pressing one to the side of Phaust’s face. “I want you to be happy above all else. Even if that isn’t with me Phaust.”

His sobs quieted down but Phaust was so deep in his own mind that Asmodeus startled him at first, and he raised his head. Realizing the situation though, his wisps wrapped gently around the other’s shoulders, spreading like a soft blanket. Asmodeus shouldn’t be out of bed yet but the Titan didn’t say anything, instead soaked the sweet weight of his lover against himself, which thawed away most of the cold that managed to take residence inside him.

As he listened, a part of him fluttered at the idea of being set free, but the majority ached that it had come to this. He knew it was a sacrifice he should be thankful for the other making but it wouldn’t be right. They needed to take it slow, talk over it more… they needed another chance and Phaust wasn’t going to run like a coward just because it hurt. He was going to stay and fight for what was most important to him - love. Even if once more it would lead him to discard himself…

He pressed his hand over Asmodeus’, for a moment only staring at him, as if looking for the right words in the other’s face. His voice quickly betrayed his emotions, quivering and quiet: “I am not going to be happy if I leave you. That much I know.” Phaust turned his head enough to place a kiss to the inside of the other’s hand, his eyes not leaving the Warlock’s own. “I don’t know where is the life I want yet but I know it’s by your side. I want to learn who I am and what I want… and I want to share it with you, if you let me. Who knows… Maybe you can do the same, in time.”

[dredgenshrike-defunct]

//doin some work with how my dear shrike looks under his armor.... had to add more fluff

[dredgenshrike-defunct]

//new and improved under-the-armor wolfman sketch hopefully later today

[dredgenshrike-defunct]

Asmodeus let him touch him, this time. Whether it was a conscious decision or he just couldn't put more energy into moving away was unclear. He didn't move to change his mind after Phaust- to chase him down, but just sat there instead. He tucked his head deeper.

This wasn't what he had picture. He had wanted an easy relationship, he guessed. Him, the king; Phaust, his knight. And yet... it had not become that. When they were both so in control, so high off their own egos, he guessed it was easy to look at things as being on their side. But the truth was so much different. Both of them were men who had gone through extremely life-changing events and their time on the Dreadnaughts, even while maybe being at the top of the foodchain, had been nothing short of traumatic for either of them. Asmodeus and Phaust had both suffered at the hands of Oryx- and though it felt like bile in his throat to admit, Asmodeus' sense of self was breaking with that realization.

If it had been so terrible- then who was he to continue to try and enact the terrible cycle? Would it not be more pain for both of them in the end? What if another Mephisto and Forneus got dragged in? And what of Phaust? Would it be even more for him especially- who seemed to have suffered more from the Taken King's control than even he? But without that cycle... he wasn't sure who he even was, in the end.

It took a long while for Asmodeus to calm down, for him to be able to cope with everything. He rubbed his eyes, dried his cheeks and cut his sobs before standing. He shouldn't have been trying to really- pain searing into his side, but he needed... he wanted Phaust. He was mad at him maybe, sad, but Phaust was his boyfriend. His best sense of comfort.

His weight pressed into the Titan's side as he slid down beside him. He leaned his heas onto his shoulder, trying to think of what to say, of what to do. It was an even longer while before he came up with anything of substance- and before he could speak it out loud at that.

"I love you, Phaust," He said softly, his voice still wobbly. "I love you so much, but I just..." His voice began to get more high-pitched- as tears began to come again. He paused, biting at his bottom lip before he could settle himself enough to speak once more. "I have worked for this for so long. I've nearly died for it on multiple occassions. I have given up so, so much." He hiccuped with the start of another sob. "If I don't have this, if I forget it all happened then what... what was it all for? If I lose this all then all that I have put into it won't be worth it anymote and I'll have upheaved my entire life for nothing."

Asmodeus went quiet once more, moving his hands to fold them in his lap and looking away. "I understand if you want to leave." His voice came timid, as if he was scared it would shatter the air around him. "I understand if the life you want- isn't found in me. It wasn't for Mephisto and Forneus either..." He slowly shifted, looking at Phaust. "I... I have loved you. I have always loved you. I want you..." His hands shoom as he raised them, pressing one to the side of Phaust's face. "I want you to be happy above all else. Even if that isn't with me Phaust."

dredgenshrike​:

Asmodeus’ hands shook from anger. He ran his hands back up to his head, covering his ears a little and gripping the strands of his hair. His nose scrunched and his eyes squinted in the way that meant tears were surely in the way soon. And it was right- tears bubbled in the edges of his eyes, slowly.

“Of course I’m sure I love you!” Asmodeus finally turned, the tears falling down his cheeks as he looked at Phaust. “I have never doubted it a day in my life. I have been angry at you, and you have made me want to rip my hair out and I’m sure I have done the same but never once have I doubted my love in you.” He looked away again, his breath hiccuping.

“I wouldn’t have let you get so close if I didn’t love you. I wouldn’t have sought you out if I didn’t love you. I would have told you to leave as soon as I saw you when I woke up, as soon as you appeared between me and Forneus.” Asmodeus choked out. “We wouldn’t be having this fight if I didn’t love you.”

He looked down again, finally quieting. He rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand, cringing at the pain as he sniffled. “I guess I just hoped that-” He was cute off by a sob, and when he tried to say it again, all that came out was another one. He gripped his hair again, stressed, his fingers threading underneath his horns and he began to shake. He wasn’t used to this. It was so hard. How did the old him deal with this? How did Sleipnir? Or Forneus? Or Mephisto?

He curled up on the bed, his head lowering until it was tucked near his chest as his breathing was staggered yet quick. “Can you please leave,” he croaked out. He didn’t think he really wanted Phaust to leave, but he was overwhelmed, and his wound hurt, and his head felt like it was buzzing with everything and his heart felt like it was tearing in two. He tugged at his own hair, shaking his head as tears flowed freely down his face. Asmodeus struggled to decide between anger and sadness on his own- but his brain had decided to autopilot and it was choosing sadness much faster.

He wasn’t sure which was worse. Either would make him feel either this way or worse. He just wanted to feel okay again- to rewind time. He wished they’d never had the fight, or that he’d been fell by Forneus, truthfully.

Asmodeus was right - they wouldn’t have this argument if he didn’t love him. The Warlock would send him away without hesitation, maybe even chase him away with his Knights to make a point if he wanted to. But here they were, trudging through pain together.

The Titan looked down, ashamed he had ever questioned it. All he wanted was to hug the other, let him know it’s all going to be alright, that they will go through it. But he still didn’t dare to touch Asmodeus, not only in fear of rejection, but suddenly felt like he didn’t deserve it after the violent thoughts he had earlier.

Being told to leave made him look up again, somewhat in shock, but this time he understood - he himself was overwhelmed with emotions, with feelings he never expected to feel again.

“Alright…” Phaust nodded after a long pause, sat still for a moment, but then moved past Asmodeus to sit on the edge of the bed next to him. With hesitation, he leaned closer, his forehead touching the other’s temple gently. “I’m right outside if you need me.” He murmured and lingered close for a few seconds before getting up.

He went outside, shoulders slouched, and when the door closed behind him, the Titan slid down to the ground against the wall. Quiet sobs shook his body violently and he hid his face in his hands.

Why did this feel so familiar? Was love really supposed to be so painful, just like the one his Father had shown him? His very being torn apart into pieces, mangled, mended together at odd angles, sharp edges, teeth and claws ripping the stitches again over and over in an endless circle. What if Phaust was wrong? And it was not love but an attempt to find comfort in the known suffering?

No. He shouldn’t think like this. Grief was clouding his mind, that was all. Everything would be fine, eventually, they would get back together, build something together again… Something theirs and only theirs. Hopefully…

[dredgenshrike-defunct]

Shrike could atleast be thankful for the other making sure to lift it more. Scrambling under it wasn't ideal and if push came to shove... Well, he could just probably tear through the metal, but then Drifter would probably want glimmer to fix it and if he was being honest? Maybe it was the alcohol, but he didn't quite feel like ruining anything when they had such a nice moment on the horizon, or so it seemed.

He listened to the whistling idly, suddenly very aware how quiet the Annex usually was without it. Sure- the chatter of fallen occasionally bounced off of the walls, but other than that, it was pretty silent. He was glad for Drifter filling that, it kept his mind off his own thoughts. Kept him from sinking where he wasn't sure if his mood would perk up again from. He watched Drifter jump the bar though, and also watched for a moment, wondering if he'd really make the jump or not. He was almost glad he did- Shrike never liked the loud thumps of Guardians falling from the wall, surprisingly. He jumped up aftwr Drifter, almost slipping but he dug his claws in, making deep streaks in the metal but keeping his balance. He leaned up once more to chase Drifter around the corner, his own cloak flaring and dissappearing from anyone who may have been watching.

Shrike sat beside him carefully, taking in the view. His optics shut off as if he was closing his eyes for a moment- letting the air wash over him. It was, atleast, a little sobering. He shook his head though, looking over at Drifter as they flickered back on. "To being alive," he chuffed, peeling out the cork with his claw before raising his own bottle and clinking it with Drifter's.

He took a rather large gulp of his bottle, looking out over the city. "I forgot how pretty the City is from above." Shrike was rarely in the tower anymore- even if he was let back in. "I find I've gotten far more used to... views where the lights would all be trees. Forests and such..." Oh- what he was saying was definitely not the most coherant, but he hoped what he meant got through anyways. "You have any favorite views? 'Sides this one, if it's one of them..."

dredgenshrike​:

Shrike’s blue eyes peeked out from under his hood as Drifter apologized. For a very, very long time- he had blamed the Rogue. He had cursed his name, and paced, and hissed and growled and absolutely dreamed of slaughtering him like a sheep for what had happened after everything else- but it was never Drifter’s fault. The darkness simply saw what he was doing in Gambit, and built off of it. He was the one who fed into it. It was few people’s faults. Still, it soothed him- like some closure.

Maybe he had never needed to kill him, to soothe himself. Maybe he just needed a little bit of closure. He wondered if that would have been enough to save his relationship- closure, instead of death, injury. To accept it was over.

Perhaps he was getting stuck in his own thoughts for a while- but Drifter pulled him out of it by speaking, and standing. He tensed when he saw the other sway, as if entertaining the idea he might catch him instead of watch him fall and laugh. But the comment on not letting either get sad-drunk made him lift his head fully, and he grumbled as he stood.

“If I can make a jump or two? Please, I’m more worried about you.” For the first time in a very long time, Shrike chuffed at him- like a tiger showing how pleased it was. He grabbed the bottle though, fiddling with his belt a little before he cut his losses that he couldn’t attach it there, and instead just held it. Shrike looked back at Drifter, giving a small nod. “Lead the way then. I’m sure you know better spots than me…”

“Ha! Ya underestimate me, Brother.” Drifter chuckled, waving Shrike on and walking out of the little flat. Already, moving felt better than sitting and staring at each other grimly, a sense of adventure setting in, even if it was just going close by. He raised the grates just enough for himself to duck under, then glanced towards the Exo and cocked his head. There was an itch to make the other scramble through under, but Drifter raised the grates more so it wouldn’t be that hard.

Whistling cheerfully, the Rouge led Shrike out to the landing pads, then up the stairs on the side. The view from there was already quite nice, a light, cool breeze coming through, but he had climbed over the railing. Maybe it didn’t seem like such a good idea with how intoxicated Drifter already was, only one hand free to hold onto the bars, the bottle in the other. But he didn’t seem bothered at all, instead his gaze was fixed on the air ducts on the wall some distance away. On this rare occasion even his Ghost showed up to watch if its Guardian would make the jump or plummet down like a rock. 

Drifter stuck the tip of his tongue out unknowingly, visibly focused, then sprung up into the air. He aimed higher than necessary and it seemed like it was going to be a hard landing, but he simply glided towards the ducts and landed softly. Not waiting much for Shrike, as if the way was the most important thing at the moment, the Rouge continued on and around the corner. The Exo could only see the coat disappearing up the ledge of the roof.

The air ducts ran over the roof as well, and Drifter sat down with his back against one. The City glimmered below distantly, up above stars watched in silence. He opened his bottle using his teeth and glanced towards Shrike when he settled down too. “Makes me feel like ‘m on top of the World.” Drifter mused with a smile and raised his bottle to the other. “To being alive, Brother. It’s not always as bad.” He snickered.

[dredgenshrike-defunct]

Shrike's blue eyes peeked out from under his hood as Drifter apologized. For a very, very long time- he had blamed the Rogue. He had cursed his name, and paced, and hissed and growled and absolutely dreamed of slaughtering him like a sheep for what had happened after everything else- but it was never Drifter's fault. The darkness simply saw what he was doing in Gambit, and built off of it. He was the one who fed into it. It was few people's faults. Still, it soothed him- like some closure.

Maybe he had never needed to kill him, to soothe himself. Maybe he just needed a little bit of closure. He wondered if that would have been enough to save his relationship- closure, instead of death, injury. To accept it was over.

Perhaps he was getting stuck in his own thoughts for a while- but Drifter pulled him out of it by speaking, and standing. He tensed when he saw the other sway, as if entertaining the idea he might catch him instead of watch him fall and laugh. But the comment on not letting either get sad-drunk made him lift his head fully, and he grumbled as he stood.

"If I can make a jump or two? Please, I'm more worried about you." For the first time in a very long time, Shrike chuffed at him- like a tiger showing how pleased it was. He grabbed the bottle though, fiddling with his belt a little before he cut his losses that he couldn't attach it there, and instead just held it. Shrike looked back at Drifter, giving a small nod. "Lead the way then. I'm sure you know better spots than me..."

dredgenshrike​:

A family of rats? Well, they sounded cute atleast. Maybe if Drifter did take them to the vet, he’d even be willing just to visit to see them… After all, he had very little interactions with small animals, even if he found some of them adorable. His eyes flickered up at Drifter at the comment of him coming back around, and yet… a small smile shimmered just slightly for a few seconds. Yea, maybe next time he came around.

He understood the half of Guardians giving a headache as much as pets aswell. Perhaps it was a few seconds late for him to think back on it- but they seemed more similar than either might like to admit when one shoved aside the murder and slaughter. Shrike disliked most other Guardians, didn’t make friends easily and more often than not…. His dogs though, he loved.

His antenna perked when Drifter began to speak next. The question- maybe the Rogue noticed it, how his claws tightened on his glass and those perked antennae tilted back once more. He mulled over the question, before he sank a bit more under his cloak. How odd it might have been, to see such a dangerous Exo seeming so small.

“Let’s just…keep drinking.” He said quietly, reaching for the bottle to pour them both more. He downed his glass rather quickly, shifting in his chair.

Shrike didn’t like the idea of who he was before. He had long since rejected the name “Emmett”- Shared it with Hex, then never again. The very name rubbed him wrong, a reminder of what he had lost- what he was now. He didn’t like to sit in the past, wonder if he regretted it, wonder how his life would have been if he’d kept his mouth shut, never turned to Gambit, and just kept on.

Whatever openess that Drifter had achieved with him seemed to dissappear as his head became a little more shaded as he pulled his hood up. He rarely showed such downcast emotions around Drifter, so maybe that in itself was him just being a little more open.

Shrike used to be so bright back then and a great Gambit player - the best there was… Drifter always suspected it wasn’t a pretty story what happened that he had vanished for so long but didn’t expect such a strong reaction to his question. It made him feel bad for the Exo, something he rarely allowed himself to feel for anybody, really. Sure, he was intoxicated and the alcohol didn’t serve to keep a clear head, but it still was something.

He watched the other close off over the edge of his glass as he slowly downed the drink, with some kind of softness in his eyes, for once not really sure what to say. They both went through shit, had stuff they didn’t share with anyone, and so Drifter really did feel for Shrike. After a longer moment of silence, he spoke up - no smirk, no edge to his voice: “For what’s it worth… ’m sorry.” Whether he was sorry for asking or for what had happened to the Exo was hard to tell.

This time, the Rouge reached for the bottle, swished what was left in there - just enough to split between the two of them, and poured them drinks. Then, he set his forearms on the table, leaning slightly forwards. His gaze was fixed on the liquid moving around as he kept turning the glass in his fingers idly. For a while, Drifter seemed to be thinking deeply about something, before he suddenly spoke up: “Tell ya what… I get myself sad-drunk enough times alone, not goin’ to do that with company.”

He stood up, swayed slightly, downed his drink and set the glass on the table with a louder clank than he wanted. “We’re going to get some fresh air. If ya can still make a jump or two.” The man snickered, grabbing two bottles from the floor and handing one to Shrike, almost holding it in his face. “Come on. Up is harder than down so don’t worry ‘bout coming back.”

[dredgenshrike-defunct]

Samael looked over, and then back ahead. He thought long, and hard about it- well, he'd never really had to put it into words.

Not every single one of his relationships with another was big or poetic. Many just came and sank in naturally- or were just like his and Seer's, formed like a baby animal seeking food from a caring hand. He guessed his and Seraph was similar- he couldn't remember a lot about their beginnings, just that Seraph was one of the few who he wasn't scared of at first.

"Never thought about it." Samael hummed, shrugging. "I guess I just... felt safe with him. I don't feel like that with a lot of people and yet everytime I lashed out he just... kept gently trying. After a while you begin to see that they don't mean harm, I guess." He sounded in thought even as he said it- a wisdom beyond his years really. His eyes flickered to the treetops where Seer had dove down a little, and then he drifted to another thought.

He wondered if it would have eventually happened with Alaric. Maybe if the other had keot trying despite sll the prickliness that maybe- maybe he'd never be out here in the first place. He cast a glance at Alaric but whatever had risen he choked down quickly. No, they were finally making amends. He should be happy that Alaric agreed to come back. Seraph would be elated- and he just wanted to see his dad happy.

"I could have went on my own once he got me on my feet, you're right, but I just..." He gripped at the sleeve on his arm a little tighter. "I mean, people think I can't do alot of things. It would have been harder for me to make my own glimmer. Seraph is nice anyways, and the library needs extra hands. He can't do everything himself." He knew that much- even if Seraph was especially prone to puppy dog eyes and letting Samael sleep in on work days.

"I guess the reasons we trust him are similar. He accepts flaws and presses on without caring what backlash he gets..." He didn't bring up the fact he hadn't seen Seraph get as snappy as he'd gotten in their argument in a long time. Samael knew that would breed more problems. "He's a good man... and... I think you're good with him, too."

dredgenshrike​:

Samael seemed to be relaxing with Alaric’s willingness to engage him at conversation while keeping space between them. Perhaps it was also the fact that they were on neutral ground- as one would not want to push two dogs onto each others territory, a space either could meet that neither felt claim to seemed to suffice for the Warlock.

Even if in the end- it might go back to semi-how it was for a while. None of the snippiness hopefully, but Samael would undoubtedly still be finnicky and hide away until he got fully accustomed to Alaric not being there as a threat- but as someone he would need live with, and hopefully even get along with like he was doing. At Alaric’s words, he gave a soft snicker.

“Maybe. Darkness animals accustomed to the wilderness may not be good to take to the City. Too cramped… though I think you misunderstand the nature of Seraph’s cats.” True to his words- Angelica and Hope were two very odd felines. They had their own way of being everywhere- of knowing things, of having an understanding of the relics in the archive it seemed. They tended to be able to get their own points across and if they wanted something- you’d know. Hell, Seraph seemed as in tune with them as they seemed with him.

“I think… that would be nice. One day in the far future. Or with Seraph.” A gentle way to keep the space that had planted between him and Alaric- a simple way to signify that maybe one day he would be more open about venturing into such a place with just the two of them- but for now, it seemed far too daunting. He went quiet again, rubbing at his own strap on his satchel. “What do you see in Seraph?” He asked- his voice more timid, more so than he liked. Seraph was protective of him and he the same- he wanted to just scope out and get to know why Alaric was so deeply in love with Seraph.

He’d already asked Seraph plenty of times anyways. Everytime the Warlock came up with something new- Alaric kept his head about him; he was a capable Warlock, he was loving and the antics did help Seraph’s days not become repetitive- Seraph loved to ramble about his lovers, and Samael was usually the one to listen.

Seraph’s cats were odd, indeed, and freaked Alaric out on more occasions than he would like to admit. It happened less the more he was around them but still he considered them weird and creepy which was a considerable achievement on the part of the cats. It probably had to do with the fact they knew more than they let on, helped Seraph know, and knowing was Alaric’s domain - having someone, or something in this case, know more… unsettling at best.

He nodded, accepting the answer Samael gave about going deeper into the forest. The offer was out there and that’s what mattered. Maybe they wouldn’t grow friendly immediately but it was those small steps that were important - ideas, common interests, willingness to spend time together, even if briefly or with Seraph… Alaric only hoped he wouldn’t ruin this faint thread of understanding that managed to form between them now.

The question surprised him and his brow furrowed for a moment. He wasn’t the type to talk about himself or the others in his life much, rarely really thought about such things as why he liked or loved someone. There was a general cloud of those in his head but voicing them always felt awkward. Still, he decided to try.

“I think… Well, he’s charming, intelligent, organised, and a great Warlock when it comes to wielding Light.“ It sounded so generic when he spoke it out loud, but he really wasn’t a romantic. And some qualities that appealed to him weren’t really ones he thought he should voice… Like how possessive Seraph could be, how the dangerous side of him pulled Alaric in, how the Darkness in both of them makes him feel less alone.

"He’s also absolutely adorable when embarrassed.” Alaric snickered, thinking about the times they were still in the flirting phase, though his face grew more serious quickly. “But the most important… He accepted me the way I am. With all my past, all my dirty secrets, all my temper, quirks… I’m not an easy person, as you know yourself.” No, he was neither an easy person nor a good one, but Seraph, knowing all this, still was willing to give him a chance.

The Warlock let out a soft sigh, not sure if what he said was what Samael wanted to hear. But he had questions of his own, too. “Why did you trust him? Why did you choose to stay with him in particular? You could have went on on your own, find your own path after being rezzed.”

[dredgenshrike-defunct]

Asmodeus' hands shook from anger. He ran his hands back up to his head, covering his ears a little and gripping the strands of his hair. His nose scrunched and his eyes squinted in the way that meant tears were surely in the way soon. And it was right- tears bubbled in the edges of his eyes, slowly.

"Of course I'm sure I love you!" Asmodeus finally turned, the tears falling down his cheeks as he looked at Phaust. "I have never doubted it a day in my life. I have been angry at you, and you have made me want to rip my hair out and I'm sure I have done the same but never once have I doubted my love in you." He looked away again, his breath hiccuping.

"I wouldn't have let you get so close if I didn't love you. I wouldn't have sought you out if I didn't love you. I would have told you to leave as soon as I saw you when I woke up, as soon as you appeared between me and Forneus." Asmodeus choked out. "We wouldn't be having this fight if I didn't love you."

He looked down again, finally quieting. He rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand, cringing at the pain as he sniffled. "I guess I just hoped that-" He was cute off by a sob, and when he tried to say it again, all that came out was another one. He gripped his hair again, stressed, his fingers threading underneath his horns and he began to shake. He wasn't used to this. It was so hard. How did the old him deal with this? How did Sleipnir? Or Forneus? Or Mephisto?

He curled up on the bed, his head lowering until it was tucked near his chest as his breathing was staggered yet quick. "Can you please leave," he croaked out. He didn't think he really wanted Phaust to leave, but he was overwhelmed, and his wound hurt, and his head felt like it was buzzing with everything and his heart felt like it was tearing in two. He tugged at his own hair, shaking his head as tears flowed freely down his face. Asmodeus struggled to decide between anger and sadness on his own- but his brain had decided to autopilot and it was choosing sadness much faster.

He wasn't sure which was worse. Either would make him feel either this way or worse. He just wanted to feel okay again- to rewind time. He wished they'd never had the fight, or that he'd been fell by Forneus, truthfully.

dredgenshrike​:

Asmodeus gripped the robes at his chest, sitting up with labored breaths. The pain seared in his side- how deep was his wound?- and he tensed. He tilted his head down, his purple hair cascading over his face, shrouding it, only the long horns peeking out from underneath, parting his hair like unpleasant rocks on a waterfall.

Because he loved him? Love to Asmodeus was loyalty to his cause. It was the willingness to die for him, to die for what he believed in- or so he told himself. Was it really anymore? Phaust had, in the beginning been willing to atleast fight for him, and yet even as Phaust abandoned the cause… Asmodeus mourned him not as a king mourned as a traitor, but as a lover mourned their other half. It felt as if part of his very heart had been torn from himself, underneath all the anger.

Yet, to have Phaust here so soon…it burned further. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have turned against me.” He hissed. “When I took you as my Knight- I expected you to have the same devotion as I did. I expected someone who would be willing to fight for it, as much as I was and-” Asmodeus grew frustrated. He tried to stand but the pain of his injury made him sit down once more and he let out a frustrated growl.

He gripped at his hair- his arms- then finally just untensed. Asmodeus’ arms dropped, and he sighed. He gave up. “You’re not. You’re not as devoted as I am. You showed as much when you tore my mark from your armor.” He slumped forward, resting onto his elbows which laid against his legs. “and I…” Asmodeus hesitated, before shaking his head, his wings drooping. “I don’t know what to do about that, I guess. Because I may love you, but I also love what I have built with blood and sweat and tears. I cannot just discard it all, as you clearly have.” He flipped over his hands, staring at his palms. “I can’t just discard myself.”

Phaust took his hand away as if it got burned when Asmodeus sat up, startled. Startled and… hurt. He should have expected this but it still made his heart sink even deeper, the cavern already so deep in his chest that there wasn’t any light reaching to the bottom of it anymore. He knew that the Warlock had to be in pain, moving so rapidly and so soon after the injury, but instead of feeling sorry for him a spark of satisfaction flickered in the dark.

The Titan sat up slowly behind the other, his back against the wall, both literally and metaphorically. As Asmodeus spoke, Phaust stared at his hands, head hung lower and lower. Maybe he shouldn’t have come back? Maybe he should have let the events run their course? What if… Forneus was right, after all, and Asmodeus didn’t care about anyone else but himself and his kingdom?

His fingers tightened into fists - he shouldn’t be this angry… but he couldn’t help it. “I’ve been discarding myself for years. Years that felt like centuries…” He seethed through clenched teeth. “I’ve done it for my father, I’ve done it for you. Offered you everything I could… I would die for you if you asked me to, I would kill for you if you said a word… For YOU.” His voice shook both with tears and frustration, short of grabbing Asmodeus by the hair to force him to look at him.

But he managed to keep his hands to himself. He took a deep breath and slowly let the air out, trying to calm himself down. The anger subsided bit by bit as he thought about his own words and all that he still wanted to say, and gave way to immense grief. It felt as if the smoke around him was trying to suffocate him, fill his nose, mouth, lungs, coil around the long unbeating heart and crush it. 

His voice was quiet once more, wet with black, black tears: “I’m not asking you to resign from what you have built… I’m asking you to try and understand that I want to stand by your side because I love you, not because you gave me the mark of your Brood. Not because I’m one of the Knights in it but because you love me too. Like a Human would love another Human… Like we both used to be.” Was it really so much to ask for? In the face of love, Phaust really didn’t think so.

He raised his head rapidly, boring holes in the back of Asmodeus’ head, his voice raising with anger again: “But now it’s ’I may love me’… ‘May’… You’re not even sure yourself, are you?” Phaust wanted to shake the other, to shake some sense into him.