(no subject)

[nestingdevil]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, avaricious. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 012.07.333.07 *** avaricious has joined 018.07.154.55 <avaricious> ithsihoitiwrks ? <BANNED USER> SCREENED MESSAGE. UNSCREEN? Y/N -- <avaricious>thdvllsnst <avaricious> vdndrere

CONTACTS

0.0.0.0 ♦ "MASON" | Heather

TEXT ABOUT THEM GOES HERE.

0.0.0.0 ♦ STOCKE

TEXT ABOUT THEM GOES HERE.

0.0.0.0 ♦ AOBA

TEXT ABOUT THEM GOES HERE.

0.0.0.0 ♦ "JUSTINE"

TEXT ABOUT THEM GOES HERE.

0.0.0.0 ♦ KILLUA

TEXT ABOUT THEM GOES HERE.

0.0.0.0 ♦ ZOLF J. KIMBLEY

TEXT ABOUT THEM GOES HERE.

0.0.0.0 ♦ EDWARD ELRIC

TEXT ABOUT THEM GOES HERE.

0.0.0.0 ♦ "XANDER" | SANDRATH

TEXT ABOUT THEM GOES HERE.

Comments

1/11

[foolishwren]

HEY SATANFACE

GUESS WHAT

<avaricious> 1/2

[nestingdevil]

ah ? hey hey thats nt vry nice

➥ Devil's Nest, March 1

[makehistoria]

[The Devil's Nest is no stranger to odd sights. Today, this quota is fulfilled by what looks to be a floating skeleton; famine-thin, seeping a thin layer of shadow, with fingers long and sharp like needles or scalpels or sharpened bone.]

[If anyone side-eyes him from another room as he heads down the corridor - sheathed sword hovering through the middle of an intangible ribcage, freshly dusted with snow from outside - he doesn't pay it any mind. He'd gone in a back way to avoid the bar proper, but he can't do anything about any looks up here - besides, most of them probably also have... circumstances. He's gonna worry about his own instead.]

[Namely, hurdle number one - how to knock when the reason he's here is that he can't unthinkingly rely on corporeality anymore. For a moment, he stares at his claws, curling them - then he solves the problem with a twitch of his other hand's fingers, levitating his blade forward and rapping on Greed's door with the hilt.]

—Boss? ...got a bit of a problem.— [It's undeniably Stocke's voice, but there's an odd quality to it, a mix of an echo and the crackle of an old tape.]

[nestingdevil]

[It's true that the 'Nest is no stranger to odd sights. But even then, the place is strangely quiet. At least, in terms of a customer base. The various thuds and knocks inside elude to the same conclusion; as the fog slowly slips in, easing through the cricks and cracks of the place like an undetectable threat. From the basement to the upper floor above, the muddled sounds of struggle are hard to ignore. A few hard thuds shake from deep below, a couple of doors rattle and bang. Voices gargle from behind closed rooms, the symphony of it all keeping a-many from wandering too close.]

[Under the crack of Greed's door, the tell-tale heat is a calling card. It blisters beneath the frame, roaring red then idling out like the heavy breathing of a furnace. The door knob smolders to the touch, the metal locks and bolts wavering with the temperature.]

[When Stocke's hilt knocks, silence follows at first. A heavy groan escapes from beneath the door and the thin layer of smoke seeping out retracts inward, coiling back as if switched on the reverse. The bolts and locks holding it closed snap back in a series of clicks and then:]

It's open - [Greed's voice sounds from inside, but it's tinny. Like a communication through cans and the distinct ping, ting, ting of clattering coins chimes through. The door groans open not a second later, its hinges threatening to buckle right off. A breath of air billows out with the intrusion removed and a potent smell of charring wood and ash washes out into the hallway in a violent sigh.]

<ihatespiders99>

[dialtones]

Are you the owner of the Devil's Nest?

<avaricious>

[nestingdevil]

you could sy that thogh if youre asking thre must be somthing you want

thst right?

action; 3/4ish

[killectric]

[Killua stood outside the entrance of Devil's Nest for a bit, curiously peering in through the windows. Whoever it was that suggested this place to him must have mistaken him for someone a little older than thirteen. Oh well, he wasn't committed to anything just yet, and it's not like he was worried even with how shady the place looked.

Desperation led him to push the door open and waltz inside. Heading towards the center of the bar with his hands casually in his pockets, Killua speaks up.] Yo. So who's the owner around here?

[He didn't have a name or even a face, so he'll just get right to the point.]

[nestingdevil]

That'd be me.

[The voice comes from behind Killua, its baritone hard to miss. From the mirrored sidewall and the hefty collection of liquor, a reflection paces. The muted images swarm into one another, showing off in a smear of burning black. But there's no denying that one thing; showing in curved-bottles and a smoked-stained surface is a brimming smile. Full of too-sharp razors that slice together in a row more befitting of an undersea predator.]

[Greed rounds the other, his body half-sunk and teetering over his hips. How he walks is predatory-slow, daunting. The two pairs of horns growing from his skull bristle with the heat trapped inside, sending wicked lines of red smoldering in intricate, circular patterns. He presses his lips together, side-glancing his would-be guest through the gap of his sunglasses. He's young, brash. And like too many others he's had the pleasure of meeting.]

[Ryslig isn't exactly lacking in the sort.] Though this really isn't a place for kids - [The former homunculus starts in and the barbed edge of his tail cracks out, pressing into the side-entrance door to make it swing. He's behind the bar not a second later and one eyebrow shot curiously over the rims of his sunglasses.] - but I'm sure you already knew that. You wouldn't be here otherwise.

[An ashtray still burns on the surface of the bar and a few bottles have already been pried open, drained, and served. The night's young and the customer base is still in its quiet stages. A few yellowed-eyed and sharped-fanged folks linger in the recesses, watching idly or entertaining themselves as the day switches hands. Greed shoots a look over Killua for a second, noting just how many have already taken their spot for the night.]

[But then, it's back to business at hand.]

The name's Greed - [The Sin begins and one claw opens up. The blackened tips scrape together, coaxing a collection of sparks that ignite in a flash. Further down the length of the bar, a few candles wake to the call; their wicks turning with an airy whoosh.]

- now that I've given you mine, what can I do for you, exactly?

<sanctity666>

[dominateartimus]

I won't be able to come the bar for a while. Something came up that needs to be taken care of.

<avaricious> 1/2

[nestingdevil]

hmn ?

8/5 <crimson>

[viliorate]

boss?

got some information for you if you have a moment

<avaricious> 1/2

[nestingdevil]

hmn - ?

som e infomtirmaton huh? gotall thetimein thewrld kimbley

8/30 <crimson>

[viliorate]

im gonna be sticking around the nest for a while
whenever i get to vandare anyway

<avaricious>

[nestingdevil]

not boutto eny you

nything ishould know ? uou usuully dontstayy vrry oftenn

<65706>

[andeatit]

[ooc: Light got the channel number from the card.]

Your plan to attack Vandere is now known. What is your goal?

<avaricious>

[nestingdevil]

tht so ? nd wywould i tell you thht?

<swordpacts> not long after all the city divided stuff

[makehistoria]

boss

[A very long pause - Stocke's reluctant to write the rest. It makes too final for his liking.]

i might need to skip out of town for some time
it's getting worse

['It' being... well, he doubts Greed hasn't noticed the way he'd started reacting to some of the Nest's residents: demons, gargoyles, Kimbley. The Sin himself. Flinching first, then tenseness, then a constantly-chained, inadvertent hatred which'd led to avoiding them... there's a reason Stocke's not doing this in person, and it's that he gets closer to snapping every moment he takes.]

[Unlike when he was a demon, a fight to take out his energy on probably isn't going to wind this down. Not until he figures out how to get rid of the parasite latched in him.]

<avaricious> 1/? I'M SO SORRY

[nestingdevil]

[He figured this was going to come sooner or later. As predicted, the issue in Kulen decisively bit them in the ass and the timing couldn't have been more inconvenient. After all, everything had a price.]

[This just happens to be his.]

[Greed takes his time on the other side. With the fog creeping in and that settling itch clawing at his core, Stocke's absence is like a toothache. He doesn't like it, but there's little choice here. The parasite epidemic had taken a back seat and now, oh now, it's all coming to a head.]

[The Sin's teeth nip at the edge of a cigarette.] figure d sss much. dont thnkyu rllywnt to hrea frme so iwnnt bothr wit h the usull. nd bfre you ge t anhy wild ides

it tkkes a lot mor to offnd me, rmember?

<giratina>

[dawning]

um!
greed!

i know you're really busy but...
can i ask you for a really big favor?

<avaricious>

[nestingdevil]

favo r huh ?

[action]

[tony_redgrave]

[Sending computer messages is for chumps. Besides, who even knows how often Greed keeps up on the stupid thing, and this is too important to wait. It's fairly early in the day so he assumes it's probably fairly safe to go barging in on the boss. And even if it isn't, it's not like it's the first time and it won't be the last.

Because Dante has no manners whatsoever.

He knocks on the devil's door once, loudly, before announcing:]

Greed! You up? I'm coming in.

[Before doing just that. Unless it's locked in which case he'll be super disappointed. And possibly kick the door.]

[nestingdevil]

[Licks of smoke play at the bottom of the door. They funnel in on the edge - creating a continuous loop from where the hallway ends and his own den begins. Dreamlike, but without the questionable answer as to who or what is lurking just behind. And as Dante's knuckles bounce on the other side of the wood, the gap in the frame breathes with a furnace sigh. Shooting settled-ash and soot out into the hall like dust from an old, untouched book.]

[There'll be no need for door-icide today.]

[The loose knob twists. While the day's still young and morning's just another visitor, the room in question hangs in a limbo(ing) dark. A peer of sunlight droops in from the back window. Its access is restricted - the only allowance being a thin slice cutting from one end of the room to the next. A few clumps dust float by, their brief moment in the lime-light turning them a'sparkle before they disappear again. Back, back, back to the dark from whence-they-came.]

[A fitting lair.]

Ah- [Greed's voice curls. At first, it's hard to make out just where he is. It's the sharp sound of his boots that give him away: their signature click-click-clicks parting the thick layer of charcoal in a lengthy drawl. He wraps one hand along the base of his neck, allowing his skull to hang like a corpse on the end of a rope. But with one tip, one roll, the bones down his spine give a pitiful crunch - the resulting sigh as pleasant as a late-night aftermath.]

[Truth is, he's used to these types of interruptions. He shouldn't be so surprised. And considering the nature of everything, he doesn't think he'll have to wait too long.]

tosses this at you, lmk if anything needs to be changed!

[makehistoria]

[Moonlight falls over the floor of the Sin's room, cold and piercing, a shine over clawmarks and scorches on the floor. It's blocked by a silhouette before it breaks over the furnace, the dark part solid shape, part wavering and indistinct - a shade's tendrils cast a shadow like one reflected through water. The shade in question watches the street below: monsters and humans, noise and quiet alike.]

[Stocke doesn't twitch when he hears Greed's footsteps (distinct and long since memorized, like everyone in the Nest's) or the door. Returning to the Nest feels more like 'home' than anything else in the past two years, and that sound, with no parasite's compulsions...]

[The shade's tendrils drift, but he curls his hand around the windowsill and slides off it, standing to face Greed. He hasn't been down to the bar proper yet - it felt right, to let the Sin know first.]

Boss. ['I'm back.']

[nestingdevil]

[The familiar taste. A touch of something missing, the scent of someone who should have never left in the first place. It hangs along the door frame in a cologne's whisper. Silky, comforting. The shadows along the jut of the window just solidify the fact; their edges playing on the watery side of a silver, waning moon. He doesn't need to see it to know exactly who it is and as the door wheezes open, as a breath of smog releases to the tune of crowbar(red) crypt, the Sin's lips pull back. Exposing each and everyone of his razors in a thin sheet of sparked sulfur.]

[Avarice incarnate and now, everything's counted for.]

[The door clicks shut softly behind him: a ghost's touch. Greed's quiet for a moment; the seconds holding out as surely as sand counted between his knuckles. The tips of his fingers test his thigh, the jewel in his ear spins soundlessly on the end of its chain. The devil in waiting, watching. Holding it out one more time until: ]

Oh? [Shrouded in the dark, his body moves like an oil slick. It's hard to tell just where one part begins and another ends. Thin threads of bone-white feather across leather only to dart off again - their movement as slow and steady as each practiced roll of his heel.]

[And at the center of it all, two beats of red. Caged and pressed into the back of his shades like hell-scorched pennies.]

[The days, weeks, months. Greed lifts his chin and with a silent inhale, his throat begins to broil. Turning cool-carbon into a slick, ever-present gold. He wastes no time, then - the drum of his boots closing the gap inch by inch. A waltz of a creature with centuries to spare.]

Took you long enough - [He's closer, now - his own ash meeting Stocke's tendrils like some sort of perilous handshake. The Sin's mouth forms to a line. The street lamps outside pop softly when he does; like that of strained buttons being stretched to their limit.]

[One ping, two pings, three pings, four, and the corner goes dim.]

<redgrave> after Lady's revival and Crow's contact

[tony_redgrave]

>ever heard the name AM/

<avaricious>

[nestingdevil]

[Oh, does that ring a bell.]

you cld say tht

somt hing i shold know?

< anotherface > has posted an audio message. If you wish to listen, type LISTEN1.

[ufufufufu]

[ He breathes out a sigh once. It is followed by a giggle -- high-pitched like a string on an instrument strung too tight, about to snap. One can feel the smile in his words, sharp, biting. Words themselves fumble in his mouth due to broken teeth. Heard more when he uses word that end roughly, words that bring his teeth together like the demon's name. But he is smiling, yes, always smiling. ]

Greed. I like you very much. I was... AM very charmed by you. Very charmed. Your fire is one worth bowing this lowly head to. Yes, yes, that is correct. And that is why I am showing as much respect as I can to you. For thinking about Kira, for allowing me to meet you when I was elsewhere with my thoughts...

I want to kill Dante. I want to kill Redgrave. This is no desire to start war with you and yours. No... that feast would not fill either of our bellies. Not this. So I tell you and ask you to give him to me. He will be given a fair fight... he will.. because he is yours I ask you first.

As is right, as is fair. That is how humans should act, right? [ And then he starts to laugh. His laughter carries on and on obviously driven to tears as he cannot quite turn off the feed before he realizes he has laughed for too long. ]

<avaricious> 1/2

[nestingdevil]

>>avaricious has posted an AUDIO MESSAGE. If you wish to listen, type LISTEN01

[It takes a while for him to respond: minutes, an hour. When the message does come through though, there's a sharp buzz of static. A weighted kind of silence holds in response: as if the air around it is heavy, thick. Enough that it almost strangles the receiver - like that of paired hands slowly choking the life out of an offending throat.]

[Did he hear that right?]

Is that so. [Greed's voice slides on deadly pitch. Sarcastic, light, but undeniably sharp. Despite the lack of an image, it isn't that hard to picture: the curl of a lip drawn back, the show of teeth back-lit in a tint of sulfur. A lonely fire huffs from beyond the feed and as its flames condense, the sound turns biting and brittle. Like that of a meal left to char in the bottom of an unattended pan.]

[No, he did hear that right, didn't he.]

[A curbed laugh barks at the back of his throat. The furnace at the backside of the room gives a healthy rumble, then. It buckles on the air of the recording - the nuts, nails, and bolts practically aching to break free. Greed glides the flat of his foot across the floor and with a hollow thud, his heel etches into the surface.] Just who do you think you're talking to? Or did you forget already?

[As he talks, the fans inside the laptop begin to whine. They're working overtime, it seems: the strain of both heat and smog enough to make the recording skip a beat. When it returns, the devil's mouth is all-too-close to the receiver.] He's one of mine, friend. Workers, henchmen - they're my possessions. Killing one of them is stealing from me - [A rancid snap rattles along the feed. Whatever's happening on the other side, it tells of nothing good. The fire's louder, his baritone deeper. Greed's nails suddenly twist along the lid to the laptop and as the ends of them threaten against plastic, the recording picks up the pieces: one snap, one crack, and - ]

- and nobody takes what's mine.

<Problemsolving> - Backdate a few days. 24ish.

[andeatit]

[Greed has a lot of influence in Vandare, and Light feels that spreading the word to him is a good place to start.]

Am I right in assuming you enjoy parties?

<avaricious>

[nestingdevil]

nt about tosy no ifthats wha t youre askn

why go t somthin for m e?

<ShootsFirst> - backdated to Kouen's recent welcome post

[patricided]

Apparently our esteemed governor of South Vandare has earned you something of a fan.
A newbie just messaged me asking about you and your crew.
They may or may not drop by the 'nest at some point, they seem kind of rude and just this side of demanding from what I got.

<avaricious>

[nestingdevil]

Oh ? thatso ?

not like ihvent dealt withit before. idd youget a name or ?

<giratina>

[dawning]

um

mr. greed

i need some advice

can i speak withh you?

<avaricious>

[nestingdevil]

?

it s just grred rmember?

donntt seehwy not

3/4

[howtogetawaywithanon]

[ If Greed decides to check up on the basement he'll notice a scrap of fabric stuck in between two doors of a cupboard, storage, anything like that. The fabric seems to come from a dress.There's also some blood on the floor near a broken bottle. ]

[nestingdevil]

[With the 'Nest as compromised as it is, there have been some measures: the trappings outside, the small wire-tangles left to snare a catch or two. However, that doesn't mean the place has entirely been abandoned and after some time, the Sin himself will check in. Taking supplies or anything else that may come in handy.]

[The blood on the floor is new. Whether it had been there before though, that's harder to say. Their exit had been fast: haphazard. Anything broken, any kind of cuts or scrapes - those would have been inevitable. But there's something about it that seems out of place: that seems too fresh. A small tsk touches on the inside of his cheek and with a tap of his boot, Greed idly pushes the broken bottle aside. The scrap of fabric all but catching his wandering, lazy eye far more than anything else.]

[Staying here too long isn't really an option. But, if someone's been here, then maybe, just maybe.]

[Gingerly, the tips of his nails pluck the piece from its snare. Whatever it is, it hadn't been there before they left. And considering how new it looks -]

Hey, hey -

<ShootsFirst>

[patricided]

Thought you'd like to know he's awake.

<avaricious>

[nestingdevil]

alrr edy huh ? goo d to knnw. rmor has it heisnn tthe first

thou gh thhts prtty fa st. somme thing i shuuld kn ow?

<Mello> (Backdated to sometime during the grand opening of Djvsalksfgntostadnudsdjun - May)

[thischaos]

Hey, 'boss.'

You in the mood to mark me up?

<avaricious> dbkj SPITS ...

[nestingdevil]

?

ah ri ght. ont hv one ytt do yu ?

sur e. cmm on by you knw whre to fnd me. sorry. mig t not b so plsaant bu t im u re you cnn hndle it.

<swordpacts> during jekyll and hyde

[makehistoria]

greed
have you seen dante recently

["Greed." Not "boss." That's... odd...]

<avaricious>

[nestingdevil]

?

no tt excttly. thou ghh it shoulnnt be ll too sssurposing

somm thin i sh uld kn ow ?

<Mello>

[thischaos]

Boss.

<avaricious>

[nestingdevil]

h m ? ah rig ht

gussthatsth ena me yourrl y goby hu h

go t somthin ?

<Mello> | Private

[thischaos]

I'll keep this short. No more secrets, right? Thought I'd tell you before it got back to you through other means.

I've aligned with the Fog God. I have no intentions of letting this interfere with the Nest, and my loyalties lie where they always have.

If it came down to her or you guys, I'd back you. Don't take it personally, yeah?

<avaricious>

[nestingdevil]

[Fog God. Between her and the Fourth, there’s really no contest. She’s merely a starting point. The dealer on the other side of the table, playing Black Jack with oblivion, offering a sweeter alternative. Providing an out, a better hand, and an opportunity for more, more, more.]

[Mello could have chosen a worse option.]

[Still - ]

>>AVARICOUS has posted an AUDIO MESSAGE. If you wish to listen, type LISTEN01

[The recording clicks on with a static(y) buzz, and the Sin circles the receiver.] No, I didn’t think so. Wouldn’t do you much good, anyway. [Dropped, is his voice; the tune of it, a jazz singer’s last call, holding to the cigarette smoke.] Though, I am a little surprised. Didn’t take you for the sort. What changed your mind?

[Because, something like that - it certainly doesn't happen overnight.]

[Greed's heels tease - his presence, merely hovering.] Oi, oi, oi - do you really think I would take it personally? You should know me better, M. [M, not Mello. It's his preferred title. The name he gave. And if nothing else, if only one thing's true, the devil?]

[He's always played fair.]

Ehh. Doesn't matter - couldn't stop you anyway. But - [The quiet on the other side is telling. As if all the pieces are clicking into place, one at a time.] - we could use that. Any information - you'll make sure to bring it to me first, right?

[Dramatically, the former homunculus stills; his nails, inches from the receiver.] I told you, when you first came to me: you're one of mine, M. What you do from there -

[A beat, then:] - it's always been your choice.

<swordpacts> [oct 1]

[makehistoria]

boss
go take a look at vandare when you get a chance
[...Stocke abruptly remembers the last time Greed went out by himself. Considering the situation he's in right now he really shouldn't be talking, but...]
take someone with you

[...]

got something else to take care of
should be home in a week
[Now that is technically true and a great filthy lie all at the same time.]

<avaricious>

[nestingdevil]

>>avaricious has posted an AUDIO MESSAGE. If you wish to listen, type LISTEN01

[To say that the following days have been tiring is an understatement. The situation in Bavan is tentative; the atmosphere in Djävulenstad is still clearing its air. It's weighing, the aftermath, and under a screen of sterile, static-blue, the Sin's claws play notes on the keys; the sound of them light, exhausted, but no less shrill.]

[The sharp side of a cigarette peels through the receiver. Shrrrrrt.] Vandare, huh. It's been a while. [Greed lulls. Every inch of him (the grind of his toes, swollen by the knuckles. The back of his throat, scorched raw from the ordeal), stiffens on the recording. Stocke's not known for his hesitations. He never has been. Even so, considering the circumstances - ]

[The former homunculus exhales through his nose, sending a spin of smoke barreling into the feed.] Ehh. Stop worrying so much, would you? I'm not really interested in a repeat. [One the bones in his spine crunches and the Sin lazily arches his head.]

[But it's the other half, the small note, the really catches his attention.]

[Greed taps his cigarette.] Oi, oi, oi - [Rolling, his tone dips low in his chest; the rumble of it, more similar to far-distant thunder, drumming its approach. Those words: they never mean anything good, do they? Not for him, not for any of them, and if history's a thing to go by, well - ]

[What's left of the smoke grinds along the inside of a tray. It scratches the circle, spin for spin; the dryness of it, as rough as sandpaper, filing a board. The Sin touches his teeth together.] - something to take care of, huh. Don't be stupid, Stocke. Whatever you're doing -

[The back of his chair skitters and Greed, slowly, moves to stand. Stocke's statement is both vague and concerning; alarming and quiet. His absence of an answer, far, far more telling. The former homunculus shallowly hisses and as his nails brace hard against his seat, the squares of his heels clap dull on the floor.] - Vandare, then. Shouldn't take me long.