open rp

[passimclamoribus]

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OPEN RP

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I said that I would make this much cleaner and neater and now here we are.

Let me say thank you for stopping by and giving this journal a look over. This is a space to unwind and have a little bit of fun. If you want to thread something out, well then let's do just that. You can throw something my way and I'll just roll with what you give me. Or you can drop me a message if you want to plot something out.

Let's RP!

❤

Comments

[passimclamoribus]

[ Thank everything unholy that everyone outside of the room will just think that Alastor got pissed and is torturing the poor soul in here further. And yet... None of them would come and bother him anyway.

But there is one person who is. One shitty, fucking fallen angel has to find out about this. Something he can most certainly use against Alastor - and probably will.

The sound of his name stops racing thoughts. Though it might be the first real time that Lucifer will witness a very real deer-like reaction; those ears perk up and over towards the sound of the King of Hell's voice. No words yet. Just feedback because right now?

Alastor feels a little cornered and he hates it. ]

[lamentapple]

[ Ugh. He never thought he'd get this treatment from Alastor of all people. Back talking, below the belt jabs, every opportunity to make him look bad in front of Charlie, yes — but not the whole freezing in place, not-so-proverbial deer in headlights because he's Lucifer, blah blah blah the great and powerful Morningstar, flashing neon danger signs or whatever the fuck is going through Alastor's head.

It sucks. Huh. Didn't figure he'd care so much about one little sinner demon not giving a shit about who he was.

He stays right where he is, doesn't move even an inch closer. Figures! Of course, why not! What a way to end the night! Even the room's dim mood lighting can't hide the sudden weariness that washes over Lucifer's face. Something that, for just a moment, looks awfully like disappointment.

A wave and he conjures something out of the air, lobs it over to Alastor. He waits just long enough to make sure Alastor catches it before he turns on his heel and vanishes in a sparkly puff of smoke.

The thing he tossed turns out to be a neatly wound roll of bandages. ]

1/2

[passimclamoribus]

[ He's waiting for it. The mocking. Laughing. Biting commentary. For Alastor there is nothing worse than the loss of his perfectly groomed image. Being seeing in a vulnerable and weak position is a big deal. He loathes it. Now it doesn't matter who is a witness to it, the reaction would be the same. The panic, preparing for the worst. Ready for someone to attack. Most demons would seize this opportunity and that is what Alastor is expecting - to be kicked while he is down and weakened.

But that doesn't happen. Nothing happens but Lucifer tossing him some bandages and looking as though he is the one wounded and not Alastor. One of his shadows ends up catching it, waiting for Alastor to return to himself. It takes a moment or two in order for it to actually register that Lucifer hadn't laughed. He hadn't said anything or done anything other than what? Offer Alastor something that will help the bleeding temporarily? It leaves him confused and shaken. He doesn't like not knowing...

So he just chalks it up to Lucifer waiting for the right moment. That's what anyone would do, right? Reveal this information when it is most opportune to do so? Instead, he pockets the bandages. Forces himself out onto the streets to satiate his ravenous appetite. One victim doesn't suffice. He slaughters half a dozen to feed on and to find release in. Oh Alastor is riding a high when he returns, enough so that even Husk is waving people away from him for the remainder of the night.

The roll of bandages ends up on his bookshelf. He uses the gauze and wrap that he has stowed away, but fixates on what Lucifer had provided instead. If Alastor doesn't use them then he doesn't owe Lucifer anything, correct?

Instead, over the course of the next few days, his confusion only grows. He doesn't sleep much, obsessing over those stupid bandages sitting on his bookshelf and the behavior he notes from Lucifer. Alastor waits for the fallen angel to say something, anything, about that night. Instead, Lucifer seems... Distracted? Disinterested? Hard to tell, but that also rubs Alastor the wrong way. No, he doesn't approach the subject even with their fizzled out banter ( something Alastor would hate to admit that he already misses ). Lucifer isn't using this information against him at all and it is maddening!

What is he doing!? What is he waiting for!? Is he just lording it over Alastor, waiting for him to lower his guard before exposing him!?

Those damn bandages are mocking him. ]

[passimclamoribus]

[ His injury still aches. Still burns and causes him too many limitations. No amount of raw meat and souls can speed up the process. It still causes him discomfort and Alastor doesn't stop trying to cover up the severity of it. The lack of sleeping doesn't help, not with how he paces while staring at that roll. Trying to figure out the fallen angels motives.

It's the fourth day after the incident that Alastor decides no more. He won't have control yanked away from him by sitting and just waiting to do damage control. No, the Radio Demon will simply confront the source of his ire and confusion.

That means ambushing Lucifer as soon as the elevator hits their shared floor. ]

It would appear that you and I are about to have a chat. [ His eyes narrow. ] Privately.

[lamentapple]

[ Alastor doesn't seek him out after that hot mess of a night, and Lucifer's fine with that. He is. Really! So what that it had almost seemed like a show put on just for him. Some kind of escalation in their... well, whatever the bickering and one upmanship and even sometimes weirdly cordial moments over vicious slaughter had been. So what if it'd seemed like Alastor wanted him to see how he could charm someone else — just to rub it in that he hates Lucifer, probably — or that there'd been a moment there, in the dark room of the club, where Lucifer almost felt—

Well. It doesn't matter what he felt because in the end, Alastor's just like every other sinner out there. He hasn't done a damn thing and Alastor still ended up scared. Ha! So what was all of it? Just some act until a moment of vulnerability, when he couldn't keep the facade up anymore? Not that any of it matters, of course! Lucifer hasn't been lying awake trying to puzzle it all out or anything, nope! No way. The less thought given to the Radio Demon — and god, what a stupid name that is — the better. He's here to help Charlie, not indulge Alastor in whatever twisted game he was playing, anyway!

And Alastor seems to be in agreement. Oh, there's the foul mood, but Lucifer doesn't pay any attention. That's none of his concern, and whatever Alastor's pissy about, he doesn't need to stick his nose in. See what happens when he does! Maybe his own mood's dipped a little, but so what! He's not taking it out on the rest of the staff or any of the guests.

So it's a surprise to find Alastor waiting for him as he steps out of the elevator. Lucifer pauses and gives him a look-over, eyebrow raised. (And if he can't help but be relieved that Alastor doesn't look nearly as bad as he did the other night at the club, well... That's just being a decent person, nothing else to it.) He brushes past Alastor, heading towards his room, tossing over his shoulder: ]

Are we? Because it appears to me that I'm going to bed.

[passimclamoribus]

[ It's a good thing that Alastor had taken the time to freshen up, hmm? At least he doesn't smell of blood and death. Now the wound itself? Well it is no better and no worse than before. It simply isn't healing.

Not surprising that Lucifer brushes him off. Alastor won't allow that one to happen. So he melts into the shadows. Reappears right in front of him, cane to Lucifer's chest. ]

Oh no no, Sire. I insist. You see, I have been reflecting the last couple of days and I've decided that since I cannot come to the answer myself then I simply should ask the source.

[lamentapple]

[ He stops. Looks Alastor in the eyes, then down to the cane. Wrinkles his nose and looks back up with a grimace. Ugh, what even is this? But fine, apparently he's not escaping whatever it is. With a roll of his eyes, he flicks his fingers, opening the door — and then uses his own cane to nudge back Alastor through it. ]

Oh, fine, let's get this over with.

[passimclamoribus]

[ Rude. So totally and completely rude. If the little king could have just accepted the conversation from the start. Or, you know, not engage with Alastor at all. But they are far passed that. He backs up into the room, turning on a heel and entering properly.

He is going to take a moment to look about the room. Back facing the literal King of Hell as he conjures up the bandages given to him by Lucifer. ]

What is it that you wanted in return? What do you want in exchange for your silence on the matter of a couple of nights ago?

[ Alastor turns his head to look at Lucifer from over his shoulder. ]

I can't understand what it is that is taking you so long to expose me.

[lamentapple]

[ While Alastor's busy looking around his room, Lucifer's occupying himself with tugging off his boots and removing his coat and hat, hanging everything up, and unbuttoning his sleeves. Whatever conversation this is, it's happening in his own space and he does intend to get to bed at some point tonight. No reason not to get comfortable for whatever insanity Alastor's insisting on.

And it is insanity. At the questions — it takes a little for him to understand what Alastor even means, only gets it when he turns to face him and sees the bandages in his hands — Lucifer stares, eye twitching just a little. Really? Is this really what couldn't wait for tomorrow and a cup of coffee?

Finally, Lucifer gives up on the brief attempt to understand this asshole and rolls his eyes, returning to the task of unbuttoning his waistcoat. ]

What would I possibly want for it?

[ And why would he want to expose Alastor. "Expose," air quotes very much intended, because the only people he might tell about that festering wound are people who'd try to help this fucking guy. But no, why would he say anything? Use it in their bickering? No, that's just kicking the guy when he's down. ]

[passimclamoribus]

[ No, no this really cannot wait. Alastor will be the one losing sleep if he doesn't finally have an answer. He needs to have the matter settled. Finalized. This way he can return to his normal routine and behavior patterns. Alastor very much is a creature of habit as he is of whimsy. But with this hanging over him, he is on edge. That won't do. Won't do at all.

It's his own brow that twitches at the response Lucifer provides. Alastor fully turns around, practically stalking like a caged tiger towards Lucifer. ]

No one in Hell, save dear Charlie, ever helps someone without expecting something in return, Sire. You do realize just how many would make a deal for their souls just to be in the position you found yourself in that night? How many would have taken advantage of it?

[ It's only when he's a couple of feet away that he realizes that Lucifer is still undressing. Alastor immediately turns around, ears standing straight and static popping in a huff. ]

You have a particularly nasty habit of catching me with my guard down, as loathe as I am to admit that to you. Not many can claim to have seen the Radio Demon in such a state. Not even my dear Rosie.

[lamentapple]

[ He'd been planning on continuing on undressing — not all the way, but at least down to just his pants and shirtsleeves. Alastor's displeasure at the completely modest show of skin has him pausing, though. Almost laughing, if he's honest. Figures this guy would act like he's a Victorian spinster showing the indecency of his ankles. Maybe he should get the fainting couch ready.

In fact— He waves his hand and a chaise pops into being right behind him. Handy. ]

Well, don't read too much into it. Not like I'm trying to walk in on you or anything. [ He's stopping at the waistcoat for Alastor's delicate sensibilities. Ha. But that doesn't stop him from stretching out on the chaise like the Victorian maiden he apparently is, draping himself along the cushions. ] And yeah, I realize. Buncha violent psychopaths only looking out for themselves, I'm sure they'd love to get you owing them. But hey, lucky you, it's me and not one of them. What could I possibly want from you, anyway?

[ It's mostly rhetorical. He hadn't offered up the bandages because he didn't want anything. What he'd wanted was to lessen Alastor's pain. To help him, just a little, even if he didn't like the guy. ]

[passimclamoribus]

[ Good. Someone in this hotel has to be modest. There are far too many in this place that aren't. Heathens. Every single one of them. ]

Believe me, I am aware you are not doing it on purpose or else this would be a different conversation entirely. The fact that you are, indeed, meeting me at seemingly random locations when I am feeding is even more alarming.

[ He turns around when he hears the fallen angel flop over. And makes a face when he sees Lucifer essentially all sprawled out over the chaise. Dramatic little...

Alastor isn't sure that it's better that it is Lucifer that is catching him here or not. All that power and not the will to use it. Unless pressed too far of course. ]

What could you want... Not too terribly creative in that department, are we? I could think of countless things, you realize, but you mean to say that the Devil cannot? That I am to trust that all of it was simply because you wished to? No strings attached.

[ He folds his arms behind his back. ]

Forgive me for sounding incredulous.

[lamentapple]

[ That earns him a flat look. Does Alastor not realize that Charlie had to get it all from somewhere, and it definitely wasn't Lilith? Probably for the best he doesn't realize, the last thing Lucifer needs is Alastor thinking he's soft. That he's willing to go around, handing out help just because he feels like it, just like his daughter, because it's maybe not the right thing to do here in Hell, but it's what he wants to do. Yeah, no thanks. He knows Alastor doesn't think much of him, but better he thinks Lucifer's unimaginative than naive and easily manipulated.

So he just stretches out a little more comfortably and rolls his eyes. He's not here to convince Alastor that he's a good person or anything. No, that's all Charlie, he's just whatever's left of the dregs. ]

You can trust whatever you want. Or not trust it, no difference to me. And whatever you're thinking, I don't want it.

[ At least, not in the ways Alastor might offer it. Sure, he wants things. He wants Hell to be better. He wants his daughter safe and happy. He wants not to be lonely and depressed and miserable ninety percent of the time. Nothing Alastor would want to help with, or even would help with willingly without ulterior motive. He knows not to expect anything more from a sinner. ]

[passimclamoribus]

[ Meanwhile Alastor is standing there, fingers tapping on his cane. Thinking. Reflecting. And then something occurs to him - how Lucifer had departed that day. The look on the other's face... It had been what? Disappointment?

For what reason, Alastor wonders.

He steps forward. Closer and closer to the fallen angel. Taking a gamble? Perhaps. But you know what they say! No risk, no reward. ]

Somehow, sire, I don't believe that is quite true. I think my thoughts regarding you might actually matter, to a degree.