nestingdevil | (no subject)

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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.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

>ever heard the name AM/

[Oh, does that ring a bell.]

you cld say tht

somt hing i shold know?

>interesting >looks like im rolling snake eyes today >tell me what you know

[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.]

nt mch if thts what youre asking

ha d an iss ue wit one ofuours. does nt show up mch bbt ive alwys made it a pliint not tohurt womnn

seems like thi s one hs othr ideas

now yi wann a tell me wht this is ab out?

>the reason ive been babysitting a body in my basement

[Greed was there, he would know.]

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

[The recording starts with an audible click. Hollow, bony - the tap of a claw against a plastic surface. He doesn't need the name to know exactly who Dante's referring to. The body in the basement; another unsuccessful result of the parasite removal. But where some had been mistakes, others -]

[Others aren't adding up.]

Ehh - [A sigh slinks from his jaws. The exhale's lengthy and smooth; the taste of a late-night cigarette just dangling on the edge of his tongue. Greed shifts his leg and the chair below gives a muted thnk in reply.] - Lady, right?

I haven't met him before, if that's what you mean. [Even without a face to go with it, it's hard not to imagine: his animated expression. The leathers on his wrist clink together, his claws unfurl.] But there's one here who's been with him before. She had a few bruises on her when I first met her. Eponine - [The Sin starts in. She's not as frequent as some of the rest, so the likely hood of her and Dante running into one another is slim. But - ]

Wouldn't give me much more than that. Seemed to me like she didn't want to start any more trouble. But you know me: even I have some standards. [An edge to his words; as thin and jagged as a switchblade. He doesn't know AM, nor does he know all the details.]

[But really, that doesn't mean much.]

[Greed lets his arm fall and on the other side of the line, a splintering creak sounds off. Like a musket through old, tired wood.]

>>avaricious has posted an AUDIO MESSAGE. If you wish to listen, type LISTEN02

[When the second recording starts up, the receiving end of the line is nothing sort of a terrible bristle: the threat of a sneer touching just out of view.]

[Greed lifts his sunglasses from the table.] So - Bavan, then?

[That's right, Greed doesn't like typing so much. Which is fine, Dante isn't as much in the mood for speaking so hopefully the devil won't mind if he continues to awkwardly clack away with his hooves.]

>who else/

[There aren't a lot of people in this world or his own that Dante would go out of his way for, but Lady is definitely one of them. Certainly Greed would understand that much. Of course he'd brought her home, his own death had taught him the trauma of waking up in a strange place, weak with death exhaustion an blindly trying to find your way home. His brother hadn't brought him back, he saw a body as just that: a sack of meat. Dante, who has spent his entire life in the human world understands the awkward value humans place upon the deceased.

The last thing he'd want is for her to suffer more.]

>so >it sounds like he has a history with this sort of thing >i should have known

[Crow is getting an earful after all of this is said and done.]

[Dante doesn't know much more either, but he intends to find out. If there's one thing he's good at it's tracking someone down. Especially when they don't want to be found.]

[He knew he could count on you, boss.]

>you read my mind

[Stocke takes his own step closer. Just the one, not a click or tap on the wood beneath to evidence it, but the shade's used to letting the Sin make the last move too-close, pushing boundaries. His settled spot's always been to the right or just behind, a gap of one arm's reach between - this is an oddity.]

[Stocke's version of too-close is not quite so obtrusive, much like his footsteps. A ghost in the dark; his eyes shutter closed.]

[This near, he doesn't need them to feel the glow of Greed's demon's core spilling out through the cracks, even without touch - rich as molten metal.]

[It's almost too much a relief not to have gnawing hatred eroding his control, having to shore it back with every heartbeat, every breath in between. Stocke has the feeling that with nothing to push against he's yawing too hard in the other direction. He doesn't really care.]

Sorry to keep you waiting. [Wry, a faint wisp of amusement - like the trail of smoke from a snuffed candle. Stocke's eyes stay shut; the shade's tendrils trail through ash and ember, leaving an echo of a pattern.]

[There's something about moments like these. The night is lazy, the air a touch humid. As if time's clock had been metaphorically punched and the world around had been left to go on without it. Seconds pass like hours, hours like days, and as the final street lamp plunks out of existence, the Sin's jaw unwinds. No longer is his smile so jeering, no more do those teeth flicker like lanterns in the dark. A warmer expression now, yet still weighted with all the heaviness of a sinner at an empty confession.]

["Gotcha."]

Sorry, huh? [He echoes. The displaced shadows scatter as he lifts his hand to his face. Built for it and here, on Ryslig's shores, it seems the transformations haven't changed much. The black scales along his skin shift in the gloom - the dark filtering over his knuckles like water out of rusty, fluorescent-fluttered tap. He touches the frames of his shades - his search for chrome-allure ending with nothing more than a whimpering png.]

[Because, right now? He's got a more pressing itch.]

[The former homunculus hooks his sunglasses by the nose piece. One catch and they lift from his face; a signal and an expression all at once.] Not like you had much of a choice, hmn? [He hums. The pair hang in his nest of claws, the ear pieces directing to the ceiling above. He doesn't look at Stocke - not at first. Instead, his lazy eyes maps out the pair. As if they're priceless; as if they hold some sort of safe-guarded secret he's finally come to terms with.]

[One click however, and they're gone. Shoved at the lip of his collar: the devil's would-be tie.]

[And now - now it's back to business.]

[The slits of his eyes peel into his peripheral. He can't help chasing that echo. A predatory need, a desire as hot and sickening as a destroying fever. A thin huff cues from his nose and with one more step, he greets the tendrils head on. Throat exposed, chin tilted, and that heat of his brought down to a comfortable, low-light simmer.]

[The one gift he'll ever give. Signed, sealed, and delivered.]

A lot happened while you were gone. You'll need to catch up. [As he talks, the Sin begins tightening a circle around the other. It's bullshit, really: both of them know better. This is just the song, the dance, and he's got the whole thing memorized. The Heathen's Waltz in D Minor. The backs of his boots clack sharply along the floor and with an air anticipation, he lifts his head. As if daring the shadows to just try.]

[Because why give when there's just so much to take.]

[Greed's footsteps circle like the beating wings of a vulture, closer and closer to something a-twitch in the leaden heat of a dust bowl. A banked fire heralded by the gentle ring of metal, the creak of old boards underfoot.]

[Stocke doesn't flinch; his eyes slit open as the Sin cools his flames, follow him from side to side, but the shade doesn't turn to chase the closing loops. Stocke's shoulders dip slowly down. He knows this dance; as far as he's concerned, he's safe enough that he can't call himself the prey. Better to name his role as the dark patch the vulture casts, shielded from the sun.]

[The shade flicks his tendrils softly, acknowledging. Quiet -] Anyone been causing trouble? [He's thinking of one group, one person in particular - the Toyotomi's new leader, insistent and impatient, an ambitious feather in his cap. But if there was something else, or something more, he'd hardly be surprised. After two months...]

[Stocke tilts his head to the side as he waits for the answer, as if he's considering something. There's a sharp brightness in his gaze, the glint of a scale tipping back and forth - his gaze follows Greed crossing in front of him, the way the demon tosses his head back.]

[It's a long stretch of seconds before the shade's stance shifts. Subtly: a slight drag of one heel to the side, as if he's getting ready for a jump, a hand's fingers bending for a moment at his side. His tendrils are slower as Greed passes through them at his back. Despite it all, Stocke waits until Greed moves out in front of him again, another coil the tighter.]

[Abrupt - the shade closes the last fragment of distance, stepping into the demon's way. The song's familiar to them both, but suddenly Stocke's playing new notes; he reaches to curl fingers around the back of Greed's neck, winding through hair and against scale and smoldering lines. Then he leans up and forward, pressing his lips against the Sin's own.]

[It's clumsy, with a clack of teeth; for all the confidence the rest of Stocke's stance screams, there's something hesitant about this last. Experimental.]

Edited (minor edits; this is why i shouldn't reread tags at 1 am ) 2016-09-12 07:50 (UTC)

[A deal and that's what it all boils down to, isn't it. Hideyoshi had understood what that meant - a bargain. A little give and take signed off not with a pen, but with the sheer shake of a hand and a devilish grin. The boundaries they had drawn out all those months ago had been fair, but as always: when it came to power shake-ups, those lines eventually became blurred. And with the General pointedly missing, his obvious vacancy has been noted and filled. Leave them here they are again to retrace the drawing board.]

[All of it with the new, high-hatted company.]

[Greed pulls away from the dresser.] At least the General had been a bit reasonable - [While he talks, a waft of soot floats along the bureau's surface. It sighs through its splintering cracks - dropping, falling. Until the edges become too steep, allowing gravity to take hold. The Sin makes a soft nose in the back of his throat, then. Thoughtful and snide. A tilt of his chin lifts his head towards the ceiling and the upper part of his lip curls with a jagged sneer.] - little bit of a pissant, isn't he? [He chirps. Hideyoshi had been forward and brash, but at least he knew how to play his cards and play them well.]

[Kouen, on the other hand - ]

[Greed lifts his arm. His carbon-cold fingers claw through the air, their pricked-points snaring the collar of his vest as he passes. Fur feathers between his knuckles in a stark contrast; white to black, black to white, and a frame of gray to set it just right.] Keep your eye on them. I know Stocke's around, but with our current problem, I don't expect him to hang around too long. [The Sin shoves one arm through the vest, then the other.] Ah -

[His wings tilt and twist. They flatten against one another an inch at a time - squeezing, contorting. Like that of an octopus at the crossroads of a thin crack. Though by some miracle though, and no doubt some practice, the edges slip through: the vertical slits on the vest's backside just enough to let them pass. Greed gently touches the trim to right it and with a few, buzzard(ly) pecks at the collar, the fur fans out.] Don't let the others know just yet. I want to see what they're planning to do first.

[Because, if Kouen's as bullheaded as he's come out to be, then they'll need another plan.]

[Greed rocks his shoulder back and with the edge of his boot, he peels the door open. Yes, they're definitely need another plan. But if the new Toyotomi think he's about to leave Vandare.]

[Oh, oh, how wrong they are.]

>>avaricious has posted an AUDIO MESSAGE. If you wish to listen, type LISTEN03

[">who else/". There's no one else. Just one body in a basement not far from where he currently is - her eyes glazed over like a milky, half-drunk moon.]

[Greed's teeth audibly clack before he catches it. ] Ehhh - don't do anything too brash yet. There's no point. [The Sin's heel knocks along the edge of the keyboard - its square-cut shape tuning the wood surface to a hollowing pitch.] Couldn't tell you - never met him. But considering how I found her, I wouldn't be surprised.

[Speaking of which - ]

[It's rare to hear that noise. That low pitch, that baritone growl just bristling under the surface. The former homunculus forces his jaws open, his smile on the other side a fleeting gesture.]

[Lady might not technically be one of his, yet -.]

>>avaricious has posted an AUDIO MESSAGE. If you wish to listen, type LISTEN04

Stocke's back - [The recording starts in again. Whatever kind of snarl had been there just seconds ago is gone. Replaced with the usual humming-slur.] - I'll see if any of his know anything first.

[A beat of pause. Greed taps his index twice on the other end of the receiver.] You're familiar with the shacks on the edge of the city, right? [He questions, his tone more sing-song than anything else.] Got someone there that might know something.

Let me know what you find. In the meantime, I'll see what I can do.

[His mouth twists when Stocke's finds it. A fitting smile for something as loathsome as him; a creature terrible to the core. Rotten, selfish. Ryslig chose right when they made him a devil. He can't pretend he's anything different. An easy canvas and while Stocke fumbles through the motions, the Sin's hands trace out his body. Not yet touching, just framing him out: guiding. Like that of a man painting the form of an hourglass between the palms of his hands, yet it's not quite that either. Because he's never been one to fight his nature: it's his cruel definition. One that he's never tried to outrun, never tried to deny, and in a press of claws, he takes it.]

[No hesitation.]

[He hears the protest of leather first; the tips of his nails skirting along the edge of the other's back - infecting, invading. Greed's eyes fall shut. In the end, it's just too much. So much, right here, in his arms. The edges of his teeth pluck at his companion's lip: a gentle warning.] Easy. No need to hurt yourself, hmn?

[A flick of red. The Sin levels his eyes to Stocke's own; seeking them out, searching for that static white that's so much a part of the other as everything else. A blip like that of a bad dial tone, a buzz like a snowed-in television screen. The former homunculus flattens his hand along Stocke's back and with a two-step of his own, he tries to coax him backward.]

[A charm for the wicked.]

[He's never been built for romance. For the kind of politeness that comes with talks over dinner and a fine glass of wine. He's raw, but even in the moment? He does take his time. Stocke's new to this. Maybe not to this particular circumstance, but to the connotation.]

[And he? Well, he's rich with time.]

[Greed peels his mouth away. A touch of smoke hangs on his tongue - like a still-burning cigarette left to extinguish in an empty glass. The smell of it ripe; a taste as scorching as hell-fire and just as potent. The Toyotomi are shelved for the moment. They're just one more thorn they'll have to deal with. Right now though - right now.]

[He couldn't give less a shit. The parasite's kept Stocke away too long and God forbid, someone try to take what's so rightfully his.]

[The Sin pulls his talons away, replacing them with knuckle. There are pieces of Stocke he'll never be able to have: intangible moments. His spine, though; it's a perfect balance. The tendrils that peel away like fog through his fingers, the anchor of a backbone to keep it all together. Greed's forehead slides along the other's temple, the shells of his horns huffing their own, black-gray exhaust. He can smell everything this close and in a second, his hidden grin comes out of its closet. Tooth for tooth against the side of Stocke's temple, a wet peel.]

[The shadow's shadow.]

[And with one snatch, he tests his limits. Greed hums along the other's ear - a broiling, thoughtless hum.]

Go ahead.

[New company without a lick of subtlety or reliability. Company that has made it more than clear that they're all just stepping stones for his next big power grab. No loyalty among thieves indeed when one flashes his knife at every opportunity and boasts loudly about his plans.]

[Dante snorts derisively at the statement.] A little? Guy's a huge tool.

[He's made it clear how he feels about Kouen time and time again, and he'll continue to do so because he doesn't play nice with pieces of shit and he's not making exceptions for this little parasite on the network.] Guy swoops in, nabs power at the first opportunity then tries to see how far he can get away with throwing it around right off the bat? Talk about poor taste.

[He shifts on his hooves, scraping and tapping in irritation. He's always been better at holding down his temper, but the minotaur just makes everything so much more aggressive. Especially lately with shot nerves, high tensions, and no reprieve in sight. And to top it all off he's been trying to cut back on drinking? Something's bound to break eventually.]

Yeah, I'll keep an ear to the ground. I don't think he's stupid enough to try something fishy right off the bat, but he's going to screw us in the end. His type doesn't give a shit who he steps on so long as he gets what he's after.

[Power. Pfeh, what a waste. Funny how many people are willing to destroy their way into it.

Watching Greed play contortionist with his wings is a bit of an amusing show, and Dante would offer to help but it's more funny from the angle he's standing. So instead he just watches, a vaguely amused smirk planted on his face. Damn, boss, he didn't know you could bend like that.]

You got it. My lips are sealed.

[Couldn't have picked a better person. No one gets anything out of Dante unless he wants them to.]

>you know me

[Which very well may be the cause for Greed's concern. Dante can bide his time, oh he will, but once that switch is hit there's no stopping him. Hot or cold, apathetic or all in. There isn't a lot of in between with him and sometimes there's no telling when the mood will change.

First he wants to be sure. He needs to know he's got the right spider, the right culprit behind the act. If he just starts going after others indiscriminately then he's no better than the very demons he's come to loathe over the years. But something tells him his hunch isn't wrong this time.]

>is he/ >thats good >keep me posted

[Yes the bugs should be out of everyone by now. Lady was one of the last to go in, her hesitance not buckling until the very end.

And he drove her to it.

It's no secret Dante feels largely responsible for this. He asked her to go, insisted that it was her best chance outside of waiting for it to kill her anyway.

Fortune has it that he's not recording, so that Greed won't be aware of the kick and crash of a bedside table gone shattering across the room. Temper's a hell of a thing some days.

A few minutes before there's a response:]

>yeah i know them >who am i looking for

[Greed tilts his head. Stuck in the door frame, his shadow seems to stretch out impossibly behind him. A creature in the fog, a man for the centuries. A thin curl of ash lifts away from his face and as it folds along the edge of the door, its ribbon jack-knives; mimicking that a bent finger. Coaxing, begging, for the Toyotomi to just try.]

[Because this isn't the first coup. A veteran to the art and a conductor once upon a time. Though that had been some years ago; his last defiance on the same, steadfast grin. And then, well - ]

[Then's now history.]

No, they don't. But I can't say that I blame them - pretty ambitious. [How he answers is almost sung. A high note teases in the back of his throat, a trill vibrates on his tongue. He doesn't know everything about Dante and he doesn't have to. He's an outsider just the same: a bridge between the mortal lot and the decidedly not.]

[Even in a world full of them, monsters would always find monsters.]

[The former homunculus pauses when he hears the familiar scratch of hooves. One of his elbows knocks along the door frame in response - a metaphorical last call before he heads into the hallway. Dante's impatience can only hold out so long; he'd rather not push it.] I've been doing this a long time and he's not the first. He can try all he wants - it won't work.

[Which is true, in some regard. Ryslig's taken a lot from him, sure. But where it's taken, it's also given. Equivalent exchange at its finest. Greed pockets his hands, his smog stretching out in front of him like some sort of wicked, red-rolled carpet. Except it isn't red at all: it's black, gray. A shade well suited for things like him.]

[The creatures in the dark.] Just try to keep that temper of yours in check; they're still our guests, y'know. [But by how he says it? Dante's feelings on the Toyotomi are entirely mutual. Greed's mouth twists; the expression tilting on the smug side of knowing.]

[They won't make it easy, that much is sure. As for the company - ]

[The Sin plants one foot on the iron steps heading to the bar below. The screws bang unevenly as he does; the structure crooked yet oh so fitting.]

[Only time could tell how much the new Toyotomi would accept the idea.]

Edited 2016-09-14 00:11 (UTC)

>>avaricious has posted an AUDIO MESSAGE. If you wish to listen, type LISTEN05

[Oh, he knows. The temper a bull: one flick of red and it's all over. Not that he blame Dante for it, nor does he hold it against them. Stealing, he's reminded. And on his side of the receiver, on the other end of the line, a touch of heat. Light. Like beginnings of a house fire.]

[Bring it down though. Bring it down, down, down.]

[When he speaks again, his sultry expression is undeniable. Greed inhales sharply and two dull clicks follow.] His name's Li - a native. But don't let him fool you. He's not much different from the rest of us.

[Meaning just one thing: he's a criminal. A societal dreg. The Sin pauses.] He's been keeping himself low ever since Vandare. Tell him I sent you. I don't know how much he'll know, but it's a start.

[A beat. Even though there's no recording on Dante's end, it's hard not to imagine something's been broken in that short span of minutes. The legs of the Sin's chair squeal along the floor.] Oi, oi, oi - don't do anything brash. You'll lose it all that way.

[Which, Dante knows; he's always know that. But sometimes, it gets the better of him. The former homunculus lifts and his voice drifts away at a distance.] I'll see what we can do in the meantime.

>li/ got it >well maybe if he doesnt have what im looking for he can help me out with another errand

[He misses his guns more than anything now. Especially with the recent rise in tensions, the death of frined. It's time to gear up and start hitting back.

At Greed's comment though:]

>you say that like it hasnt happened before

[The response was quick, too quick, and he realizes immediately after sending it he's said too much and it's time to backtrack. Briefly He has to wonder if Greed somehow knew he'd kicked the table, but really it's more likely the devil just knows him that well. He does brash things because really? It's all going to go to hell one way or another. Might as well be the one holding the wheel on the way down, don't you think?]

>anyway. yeah. ill do some digging >ill let you know before i go to pin a spider to a wall >if you want in on this fun

Edited 2016-09-15 13:44 (UTC)

[Stocke curves into the prick of Greed's talons at his back, stretching underneath like some tenebrous beast. His hand at Greed's neck slides up, carding through black hair; then it hits one of the Sin's horns and slows, following the spiral with a thumb. The shade's claw scrapes lightly over ridges, disrupting curls of demon's smoke.]

[Stocke himself slows at Greed's prompting and the nip of jagged teeth, his eyelids drifting down halfway. His eyes glow bright, too bright; a soft ring of static round the edges rather than the center. This...]

[They snap back to alertness as the shade catches Greed watching him - he makes a soft noise, questioning. But there's the Sin's hand splayed at his back, a light pressure; Stocke follows along. As he always has, always will, Ryslig permitting.]

[It's a good thing his extra limbs aren't so much a solid encumbrance as another monster's would be: the shade's paying hardly as much attention to his surroundings right now as he should be. His tendrils twist around each other, fan out languidly - jitter to a halt only when the Sin pulls back, leaving Stocke breathing slightly harder than usual. A warmth stays, a kindling furnace very unlike a shade's cool mist.]

[Greed wouldn't be mistaken if he guessed this was entirely new. Stocke'd never had the time or inclination (or had Heiss arranged it that way?), and Ernst... it's entirely possible, but Stocke doesn't like to think of the shattered fragments of memory he now has, let alone search them for something like this. He doesn't want to claim them as his.]

[It means he's flying part-blind.]

[That's nothing unusual. He'll figure it out as he goes; Stocke's made a decision, and he's not often one to turn back.]

[Still, it doesn't keep a self-deprecating quirk from the corner of his mouth when he feels Greed's teeth again. He can sense the press of the demon's knuckles down his spine, the light vibration at the side of Greed's throat as the demon hums; too much he's suddenly overly conscious of, and the rush of static in him's no different.]

[His hand drops from the Sin's neck to his back, the other one rising to meet it; he trails fingers down the membrane of Greed's wings. With gold flames dimmed, there's nothing but a faint sting to them - touch outstrips it, leaving behind a sensation that's not entirely unpleasant. This time it's Stocke's turn to have his eyes slide shut.]

[Over anything else:] Show me.

>>avaricious has posted an AUDIO MESSAGE. If you wish to listen, type LISTEN06

[A cigarette spurts briefly on the receiving end; the last bits of paper biting at the filter piece for piece. Dante on a good day is a loose canon; a gun cocked, loaded, and ready to go. Now, though. Now, he has a target in mind. A name and a face that can finally answer for all of his frustrations. And nothing, no one, would get in his way.]

Tch- [Greed's lips pull back. An obvious half-grin release before his nails click along the edge of the laptop's screen.] - don't make it too messy. Better to get the information first, hmn? [The last word holds in his throat. Like churning fire, it bakes along the receiver. Dull now, but a possible threat for the future. The Sin tilts his head and through the recording, the jewel hanging from his ear chimes in.]

[A bell-toll for the wicked.] Eh- I don't doubt it. That temper of yours tends to get the better of you. Not that I blame you.

[He idly taps his foot.] As for Li, it depends on what you're looking for, exactly. Just tell him I sent you - [The former homunculus presses the flat of his boot into the chair's leg and with push, he slides it back into place.] In the meantime, I'll see what I can find out.

[Under normal circumstances Dante can manage that temper of his with a little more control and finesse, but with the way things have been going for so long that control's starting to fray. And when the dam breaks?

It's going to be ugly.]

>dont worry >im not the type to go off half cocked >but if my suspicions are correct then i think weve got the right guy

[For all his recklessness there are a few rules even Dante won't break. He won't attack unannounced, and he won't go after someone he doesn't know without absolute certainty is guilty of whatever he's hunting them for. Once those requirements have been filled, however, all bets are off.]

>at the very least maybe he can point me where i need to go >sword and hooves are all well and good >but im feeling a little naked without my guns

[He misses his guns so much.]

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

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<avaricious> 1/2 | PRIVATE

<avaricious> 2/2 | PRIVATE

<redgrave>

<avaricious> | PRIVATE 1/2

<avaricious> 2/2 | PRIVATE

<redgrave>

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

<avaricious> 1/2 | PRIVATE

<avaricious> 2/2 | PRIVATE

no subject

no subject

<redgrave>

no subject

<avaricious>

<redgrave>

no subject

<avaricious>

<redgrave>