Something coy tugs at the corner of his mouth. Between the cigarette smoke and the ghostly blue of the abandoned church, a heat suddenly fumes across his face; as if some want, some desire, has already been satisfied.
Greed inhales, eating away half of his cigarette. "Know me too well, don't you?" Purring, he breathes his words into life in a rush of air through his nose. "Doc's got it in the safest place in the world." The Sin cants his head, causing the rest of his body to tip and teeter like a dancer drunk on applause. "Figured it'd be a good spot. Besides, it gives me an excuse to give our good ol' friends upstairs a message in return for the shit they pulled tonight."
He slinks back and as his heels rap-rap-rap across the church floor, the Sin takes the lead. He weaves away from the pews and up to the ceremonial platform; his legs and torso maneuvering between wreckage and stockpiles alike more similar to a vulture plucking its way through a funeral's buffet.
It's only when he gets to the confessional, does he pause. What had probably been a pristine structure once has quietly transformed over the night. The wood's been smeared in oil - a dump of ashtrays, matchboxes, and cash from the bar litters the carpet. Greed takes it all in with a lopsided grin; his eyes reignited to a gassy purple-pink.
He strikes the back of his teeth with his tongue. "Welcome to our little congregation handsome. Let me show you around - " He starts and with a gentle lift of his wrist, the curtain to the confessional pulls away, revealing the severed wing. Someone, at some point, had taken the time to carefully wrap it. Red-silk curtains from the bar's private rooms loop around the feathers, leaving it cushioned, yet stable for transport.
The Sin shuffles to one side of the tight space to leave Murmur enough room to enter. "Thought it might be worth saving," he pinches his cigarette from the tip to snuff it between his fingers. "Guess they weren't wrong, huh?"
Greed leans forward, his lips pursed. For a while, he just stares at it - all the feathers left without an owner, how much space it fills. There's worth there, and he knows it. It calls to him like blood to a shark. The price of it, the power of it, the sheer unfathomable possibilities.
Yet -
The cigarette butt finds the confessional's floor and the Sin eases back and away into a sluggish slouch. "Equivalent exchange," he remarks, absently. "For what you did back there. It's yours."
Greed inhales, eating away half of his cigarette. "Know me too well, don't you?" Purring, he breathes his words into life in a rush of air through his nose. "Doc's got it in the safest place in the world." The Sin cants his head, causing the rest of his body to tip and teeter like a dancer drunk on applause. "Figured it'd be a good spot. Besides, it gives me an excuse to give our good ol' friends upstairs a message in return for the shit they pulled tonight."
He slinks back and as his heels rap-rap-rap across the church floor, the Sin takes the lead. He weaves away from the pews and up to the ceremonial platform; his legs and torso maneuvering between wreckage and stockpiles alike more similar to a vulture plucking its way through a funeral's buffet.
It's only when he gets to the confessional, does he pause. What had probably been a pristine structure once has quietly transformed over the night. The wood's been smeared in oil - a dump of ashtrays, matchboxes, and cash from the bar litters the carpet. Greed takes it all in with a lopsided grin; his eyes reignited to a gassy purple-pink.
He strikes the back of his teeth with his tongue. "Welcome to our little congregation handsome. Let me show you around - " He starts and with a gentle lift of his wrist, the curtain to the confessional pulls away, revealing the severed wing. Someone, at some point, had taken the time to carefully wrap it. Red-silk curtains from the bar's private rooms loop around the feathers, leaving it cushioned, yet stable for transport.
The Sin shuffles to one side of the tight space to leave Murmur enough room to enter. "Thought it might be worth saving," he pinches his cigarette from the tip to snuff it between his fingers. "Guess they weren't wrong, huh?"
Greed leans forward, his lips pursed. For a while, he just stares at it - all the feathers left without an owner, how much space it fills. There's worth there, and he knows it. It calls to him like blood to a shark. The price of it, the power of it, the sheer unfathomable possibilities.
Yet -
The cigarette butt finds the confessional's floor and the Sin eases back and away into a sluggish slouch. "Equivalent exchange," he remarks, absently. "For what you did back there. It's yours."
"I make it a habit to know well those I choose to engage with, yes," He responded with a wry smirk of his own. Gingerly he moved to stand, wincing slightly at the sting. The wound would heal quickly enough, but angelic weapons were particularly suited to damaging other angels just as well as they were designed to cut down demons. Of course he knew they'd collect the fallen wing, they couldn't resist a treasure like that. Nor the act of revenge it represented.
That was all part of Murmur's calculated plan.
Sipping his tea he moved to follow, curious how Greed would define the "safest place" possible for such a thing. Of course, he quickly regretted wondering and had to shake his head at the sight of such a defiled confessional. Not that he had any particular attachment to the practice, the ways of mortals were not the ways of angels after all. How they decided to repent was up to them... even so, this church was one he did not want the demons getting too comfortable in. It was still consecrated ground, after all, and that was the very thing protecting them right now. Angels would not perform violence here, it would be unsavory to them.
For now even they were granted sanctuary in such a place.
"I expected they might," He looked pleased, brushing past the Sin to inspect his prize. He did raise an eyebrow at all the pomp and show of gifting it to him, and couldn't help the faint exasperation that escaped him. It belonged to him by right of battle, but that was hardly the part he was exasperated by. "You really must stop underestimating me, Avarice." Now he's using the name to express his disappointment. "This," He reached out and tweaked a feather, and for the briefest moment a flash of a most predatory grin crossed his features. "Is bait. I have already laid the groundwork. Three cast from their earthly vessels, three failing to tear down a tarnished traitor, and one to lose a wing in the process. Not only have we cost them grave injury, but more than that they have been humiliated. This one will stop at nothing to have his wing returned, lest he be disgraced for eternity."
There was a triumph there, subtle and yet as sharp as any of his blades of ice. As though victory could be claimed already in a battle not yet even fought. "With this, you have an avenue for revenge. Moreover you have an avenue for information, which is far more valuable now as forces align against you. We have but to lay the trap."
Murmur planned it all out. As soon as the attack happened every step had been calculated, every angel taken down, every angel allowed to escape, and even his own injury had all been moves in a greater game. Greed was lucky this one was on his side.
That was all part of Murmur's calculated plan.
Sipping his tea he moved to follow, curious how Greed would define the "safest place" possible for such a thing. Of course, he quickly regretted wondering and had to shake his head at the sight of such a defiled confessional. Not that he had any particular attachment to the practice, the ways of mortals were not the ways of angels after all. How they decided to repent was up to them... even so, this church was one he did not want the demons getting too comfortable in. It was still consecrated ground, after all, and that was the very thing protecting them right now. Angels would not perform violence here, it would be unsavory to them.
For now even they were granted sanctuary in such a place.
"I expected they might," He looked pleased, brushing past the Sin to inspect his prize. He did raise an eyebrow at all the pomp and show of gifting it to him, and couldn't help the faint exasperation that escaped him. It belonged to him by right of battle, but that was hardly the part he was exasperated by. "You really must stop underestimating me, Avarice." Now he's using the name to express his disappointment. "This," He reached out and tweaked a feather, and for the briefest moment a flash of a most predatory grin crossed his features. "Is bait. I have already laid the groundwork. Three cast from their earthly vessels, three failing to tear down a tarnished traitor, and one to lose a wing in the process. Not only have we cost them grave injury, but more than that they have been humiliated. This one will stop at nothing to have his wing returned, lest he be disgraced for eternity."
There was a triumph there, subtle and yet as sharp as any of his blades of ice. As though victory could be claimed already in a battle not yet even fought. "With this, you have an avenue for revenge. Moreover you have an avenue for information, which is far more valuable now as forces align against you. We have but to lay the trap."
Murmur planned it all out. As soon as the attack happened every step had been calculated, every angel taken down, every angel allowed to escape, and even his own injury had all been moves in a greater game. Greed was lucky this one was on his side.
Just as swiftly as the first had gone out, a new cigarette appears between the Sin's fingers in a single, slick motion. He plays with it; flipping it over a knuckle, making it disappear into the palm of his hand only to have it appear out the other side again with nothing but air and an assurance of a quick fix.
Greed arches an eyebrow and as it breaks over the rims of his shades, the look on his face is uncanny. It's sick with desire; fumed with want. But it isn't for his usual. Gold, riches, women, company, sex - no, those couldn't hold a candle to what he truly desires. That need, no that right for pure, raw vengeance; it grips at him like a snare. The corner of his mouth shrinks and his teeth crack open, inviting and welcoming the butt end of his cigarette as smoothly as a signature to paper.
When his thumb ignites again, the flame shimmers to a rich, fat-bellied gold. "Sounds like you've got this all planned out," he swirls his tongue to release a spiral of fresh smoke. "-knew I shouldn't underestimate you. It's pretty impressive." He ashes a bit onto the floor and carefully smooths out any hot coals with the heel of his boot. "Made a few calls of my own. The Coven - " Trilling, the Sin lifts a hand into the air to twirl at a strand of soot until it condenses and reshapes itself into something of a curvy figure. "-Bido's making sure they take care of the rest. By tonight, the 'Nest'll be back in working order. Just might be harder for some of my infrequent visitors to find the place for a while. You still got the thing I gave you?"
The matchbox: a one-way ticket. Greed fumbles through his pockets to pull one out. "If not, I got one of these left for the time being. Call it a precaution." He pushes the side with his thumb to check the contents and a couple of measly sticks rattle and roll into a corner. "Don't have a lot left, so you'll have to hold off until then. In the meantime, I have my own to deal with."
Because heavenly bodies weren't the only ones working tonight, oh no. They had help. Help from deep below in a crooked shape and a vile face that he knew all too well.
The devil sharpens his teeth on the filter of his cigarette, making the paper wheeze like a lung, blackened by disease. "Never been one to pass on a discount myself. And what's better than two for the price of one? Besides - " Red brands behind his sunglasses, burning into the glass and pulsing as sure as a wildfire raging deep in a wooded pit. "-I think it's about time little Envy got their dues."
Greed arches an eyebrow and as it breaks over the rims of his shades, the look on his face is uncanny. It's sick with desire; fumed with want. But it isn't for his usual. Gold, riches, women, company, sex - no, those couldn't hold a candle to what he truly desires. That need, no that right for pure, raw vengeance; it grips at him like a snare. The corner of his mouth shrinks and his teeth crack open, inviting and welcoming the butt end of his cigarette as smoothly as a signature to paper.
When his thumb ignites again, the flame shimmers to a rich, fat-bellied gold. "Sounds like you've got this all planned out," he swirls his tongue to release a spiral of fresh smoke. "-knew I shouldn't underestimate you. It's pretty impressive." He ashes a bit onto the floor and carefully smooths out any hot coals with the heel of his boot. "Made a few calls of my own. The Coven - " Trilling, the Sin lifts a hand into the air to twirl at a strand of soot until it condenses and reshapes itself into something of a curvy figure. "-Bido's making sure they take care of the rest. By tonight, the 'Nest'll be back in working order. Just might be harder for some of my infrequent visitors to find the place for a while. You still got the thing I gave you?"
The matchbox: a one-way ticket. Greed fumbles through his pockets to pull one out. "If not, I got one of these left for the time being. Call it a precaution." He pushes the side with his thumb to check the contents and a couple of measly sticks rattle and roll into a corner. "Don't have a lot left, so you'll have to hold off until then. In the meantime, I have my own to deal with."
Because heavenly bodies weren't the only ones working tonight, oh no. They had help. Help from deep below in a crooked shape and a vile face that he knew all too well.
The devil sharpens his teeth on the filter of his cigarette, making the paper wheeze like a lung, blackened by disease. "Never been one to pass on a discount myself. And what's better than two for the price of one? Besides - " Red brands behind his sunglasses, burning into the glass and pulsing as sure as a wildfire raging deep in a wooded pit. "-I think it's about time little Envy got their dues."
At this juncture Murmur would find it more strange if his proposition didn't elicit a dramatic response. Greed was a creature easy to predict, by his nature he coveted everything there was or ever could be to covet, but the trick was in knowing what he valued. It wasn't simple gold or trophies, no, it was those who he had claimed as his own. And Envy had made a dreadful mistake in bringing harm upon them. It was only reasonable to quell this threat before things got out of hand.
"Still working out some of the details," Murmur continued, moving to find himself a clear spot on the pew to rest and sip his tea, apparently unbothered by the severed limb in his company. He gestured for Greed to join him, they'd not had a moment to truly sit and discuss much of anything, much less tactics. At the question he reached into one of the many inner pockets in his thick coat, drawing out the box of so far unused matches to rattle it at the Sin. He'll be fine, and if need be he's sure he could collect a few more.
Before Greed could leave him so quickly again he chimed in: "I have a request."
"Still working out some of the details," Murmur continued, moving to find himself a clear spot on the pew to rest and sip his tea, apparently unbothered by the severed limb in his company. He gestured for Greed to join him, they'd not had a moment to truly sit and discuss much of anything, much less tactics. At the question he reached into one of the many inner pockets in his thick coat, drawing out the box of so far unused matches to rattle it at the Sin. He'll be fine, and if need be he's sure he could collect a few more.
Before Greed could leave him so quickly again he chimed in: "I have a request."
"And what sort of details would those be?" The Sin asks, his voice tangled up in a slur. The sound that shivers out of him is a mix of a purr and a hum; the tune of it, a sweet, honey-suckle poison. Because he is predictable. What he wants is simple, what he craves is easy: an eye for an eye, a tooth of a tooth, and if Envy is the ugly monster, Avarice?
Avarice is the loaner quick on the heels whenever jealousy overextends its reach.
Greed tosses his cigarette into a ceremonial goblet as he follows Murmur's lead, leaving the idea to simmer for a later time. "Not exactly a clean night, so I don't expect results right away," he starts in while his body falls into an empty spot on the pew. With no regard to the sanctimony of things, he lets his legs and arms sprawl. He hooks his heels up and across the back of the pews and the rest of him sags to fill up the space. His whole demeanor still casual, cool.
"Oh-?" He cocks his head slightly to the side. "And here I thought you'd never take me up on an offer. Well, shit - " The Sin pops his lips, causing something hot to stir in his cheek. "Name it. Whatever you want," he begins before cutting himself off with a wave. "-no strings attached. Devil's honor."
Avarice is the loaner quick on the heels whenever jealousy overextends its reach.
Greed tosses his cigarette into a ceremonial goblet as he follows Murmur's lead, leaving the idea to simmer for a later time. "Not exactly a clean night, so I don't expect results right away," he starts in while his body falls into an empty spot on the pew. With no regard to the sanctimony of things, he lets his legs and arms sprawl. He hooks his heels up and across the back of the pews and the rest of him sags to fill up the space. His whole demeanor still casual, cool.
"Oh-?" He cocks his head slightly to the side. "And here I thought you'd never take me up on an offer. Well, shit - " The Sin pops his lips, causing something hot to stir in his cheek. "Name it. Whatever you want," he begins before cutting himself off with a wave. "-no strings attached. Devil's honor."
"The where, for a start. Choose a suitable location, one that would be unlikely to arouse more suspicion than necessary. I will need time to prepare the binding wards, but it shall be done. Once that is in place we need merely bait the trap. Between my work and that of the coven capturing your messenger pigeon will be assured."
Again an eyebrow rose, the faintest hint of a smirk briefly touching his features, more tooth than necessary and with an air that he expects Greed will soon come to dislike what it is he wishes to request. "It is not for me," Of course not, it never is. "The angel. I would prefer it if you did not slaughter him. While he has transgressed against you remember that they act on orders and little else. Doubtful he even understands the web he's fallen into. Being forcefully evicted from one's Earthly body is agony enough, but outright destruction is..." He looks distant for a moment, maybe even pained, but it's brief and Murmur is a master of keeping his facial features under control.
"Their numbers only dwindle. There is only one method by which angels come into existence and a new one has not been created in millennia. Your display of mercy will not go unnoticed."
He may be an exile, but he still carries the weight of duty even if it seems counter intuitive.
Again an eyebrow rose, the faintest hint of a smirk briefly touching his features, more tooth than necessary and with an air that he expects Greed will soon come to dislike what it is he wishes to request. "It is not for me," Of course not, it never is. "The angel. I would prefer it if you did not slaughter him. While he has transgressed against you remember that they act on orders and little else. Doubtful he even understands the web he's fallen into. Being forcefully evicted from one's Earthly body is agony enough, but outright destruction is..." He looks distant for a moment, maybe even pained, but it's brief and Murmur is a master of keeping his facial features under control.
"Their numbers only dwindle. There is only one method by which angels come into existence and a new one has not been created in millennia. Your display of mercy will not go unnoticed."
He may be an exile, but he still carries the weight of duty even if it seems counter intuitive.
Greed's fingers tip and tap atop the pew in thought. "I think I have a spot that'll work. But the rest of them stay here," he orders, his nail stopping short enough on the wood to draw a thin line. "I don't need any more of my things getting damaged. That being said, the place hasn't been touched in a while, so I might have to clear it out myself. How much time do you need?"
But for how quickly that serious tone comes, it's gone; in a flash of teeth, in a too-wide grin that gapes, stretches, and promises to one day, oh one day, swallow the world and everything in it. The Sin's eyebrows touch ever-so-slightly together; his face, a picture-perfect vision of eagerness. "Somehow, I thought that'd be the case - you really push a hard bargain, friend." His tongue lashes, splitting and reforming together again like magnetic glue.
However, his expression drops. Vengeance, payback: it's a thin line for him to walk. Because Murmur isn't wrong. The angel has already been stripped to its core; reduced and smothered, a punishment worse than anything he could possibly give. Still, that core of his twists and writhes. It pushes up his throat, making his jaw set and his eyes wander, as if looking for an answer. "It's a waste. I get it. Still," a heat rises off his finger as it turns crooked and sharp, making the wood of the pew hiss in a smoke. "-no one takes what's mine, Angel. I hope, for his sake, he remembers that."
Greed yanks his heels down, causing them to smack hard against the church's stony floor. "I'll make sure he doesn't die, but I can't promise anything else." Meaning, well, anything. Because isn't it true? A pound of flesh is a drop in the bucket.
And greed, ah greed: how it always calls for more.
But for how quickly that serious tone comes, it's gone; in a flash of teeth, in a too-wide grin that gapes, stretches, and promises to one day, oh one day, swallow the world and everything in it. The Sin's eyebrows touch ever-so-slightly together; his face, a picture-perfect vision of eagerness. "Somehow, I thought that'd be the case - you really push a hard bargain, friend." His tongue lashes, splitting and reforming together again like magnetic glue.
However, his expression drops. Vengeance, payback: it's a thin line for him to walk. Because Murmur isn't wrong. The angel has already been stripped to its core; reduced and smothered, a punishment worse than anything he could possibly give. Still, that core of his twists and writhes. It pushes up his throat, making his jaw set and his eyes wander, as if looking for an answer. "It's a waste. I get it. Still," a heat rises off his finger as it turns crooked and sharp, making the wood of the pew hiss in a smoke. "-no one takes what's mine, Angel. I hope, for his sake, he remembers that."
Greed yanks his heels down, causing them to smack hard against the church's stony floor. "I'll make sure he doesn't die, but I can't promise anything else." Meaning, well, anything. Because isn't it true? A pound of flesh is a drop in the bucket.
And greed, ah greed: how it always calls for more.
"It is best they keep their distance." He agreed. There wasn't any need to utilize more of the Nesters, best to not have to worry about keeping them out of harm's way while trying to trap an angel. Even one of lower rank, such as the one whose wing he tore off, was a dangerous adversary to demons and their kin. "I will require time enough to collect materials, should you find yourself taking longer than I to clear the space then I suppose I could lend a hand." Loathe as he was to do so, despite his display Murmur did not enjoy fighting.
"I never do things by halves, you should know that by now." He responded in kind with an echoed smirk, much diluted compared to Greed's all-consuming grin. It was a difficult request, but an important one all the same. He had a feeling Greed would come to see it his way. "Your actions will be remembered, of that I can promise you. For angels, mercy is not weakness it is divine. They will know the threat for what it is, that you had every right to take back what was taken from you and then some. In light of that siding with any of your brethren again will be unlikely."
Murmur gestured dismissively, he wasn't asking Greed to be gentle by any means. "Do as you will, it will be a valuable lesson in vetting allegiances. Besides, at the end of this your reward will be much more delectable than one plucked pigeon." Greed could do whatever he wanted to Envy, especially once his Heavenly envoy had been dispersed.
"I never do things by halves, you should know that by now." He responded in kind with an echoed smirk, much diluted compared to Greed's all-consuming grin. It was a difficult request, but an important one all the same. He had a feeling Greed would come to see it his way. "Your actions will be remembered, of that I can promise you. For angels, mercy is not weakness it is divine. They will know the threat for what it is, that you had every right to take back what was taken from you and then some. In light of that siding with any of your brethren again will be unlikely."
Murmur gestured dismissively, he wasn't asking Greed to be gentle by any means. "Do as you will, it will be a valuable lesson in vetting allegiances. Besides, at the end of this your reward will be much more delectable than one plucked pigeon." Greed could do whatever he wanted to Envy, especially once his Heavenly envoy had been dispersed.
Rising out of the crook of the pew, Greed gives a slow, dismissive wave over his shoulder. "No, no need. I can take care of it," he drawls in, his voice as fine as churning smoke. There's something about the way he stands (the semi-slouch, the way one of his heels lifts drearily off the floor to hover on the point of his toe) that says it all. He's weighing it out; chewing it. The debate of what he wants and his own, self-inflicted rules battling for control.
On the one hand, killing would be a waste, sure enough. On the other hand, he deserved something. Retribution: a tax, a payment with interest, and if Heaven wasn't about to pay the fee, well.
A series of holes begin to pit under the point of his boot; their formation, sluggish and pickled in rot. Greed's shoulders stiffen. "A valuable lesson - is that it?" A drop of wet falls form his mouth and sizzles gold onto the concrete. "You really are a pain, you know. But fine - it's a deal." He pockets his hands and as the angry smear beneath his foot puts itself out, the Sin lets his body fall lax; his ego, all but coming in to smother the notion.
He can wait. After all, his real target should be easy to bait. Envy was and is a predictable creature. No doubt, it's still licking its wounds from earlier. And a loss for jealousy? Well, that would just piss it off enough to do something stupid, wouldn't it?
Greed's mouth wrangles itself into its usual, self-appreciating grin. "Give me a couple of hours. I'll call you on Martel's phone." He thumbs over his shoulder to gesture back at the crew behind him. "She can give you the direction of the place once I'm done."
On the one hand, killing would be a waste, sure enough. On the other hand, he deserved something. Retribution: a tax, a payment with interest, and if Heaven wasn't about to pay the fee, well.
A series of holes begin to pit under the point of his boot; their formation, sluggish and pickled in rot. Greed's shoulders stiffen. "A valuable lesson - is that it?" A drop of wet falls form his mouth and sizzles gold onto the concrete. "You really are a pain, you know. But fine - it's a deal." He pockets his hands and as the angry smear beneath his foot puts itself out, the Sin lets his body fall lax; his ego, all but coming in to smother the notion.
He can wait. After all, his real target should be easy to bait. Envy was and is a predictable creature. No doubt, it's still licking its wounds from earlier. And a loss for jealousy? Well, that would just piss it off enough to do something stupid, wouldn't it?
Greed's mouth wrangles itself into its usual, self-appreciating grin. "Give me a couple of hours. I'll call you on Martel's phone." He thumbs over his shoulder to gesture back at the crew behind him. "She can give you the direction of the place once I'm done."
Murmur wasn't telling Greed not to get his due, not at all, he was simply directing that retribution in a more... constructive direction. A war with Heaven would do nothing but cause more loss. It was unnecessary, and more than that Heaven didn't need pulled into the quarrel between warring Sins. It wasn't normal for them to get involved in such things anyway, this would only serve as a reminder.
And in a way, paint Greed in the light that Murmur saw him, or at the very least the light he pretended was the case: Predictable, and most interested in maintaining his own little kingdom. Not a threat to Heaven, not a threat to stability. Murmur was gambling that in the long run those of the Holy City would be disinclined to repeat this endeavor and instead choose to leave Greed to his devices. He keeps to his own, they to theirs, and the other Sins will have to find new pawns for their games. Murmur of course would always be on their hit list, but that was a problem for a later date.
With Heaven out of the way peaceably, Greed could focus his efforts on the real problem: Envy. "There are other boons to this path," Murmur advises, mysterious as ever. He's not going to go into unnecessary detail, he's not lead Greed astray yet. Finishing off his tea he set the cup aside gingerly, pushing it back toward the Sin to return to his treasury, wherever that might be. "Excellent. Understood. I will return when I have obtained what I need."
He'd like more time to heal, but time was never a gift he had enough of. Before Greed could say anything else he was gone, little more than a gentle cool breeze and the faintest flap of a wing to signal his departure. He'd return by the appointed hour.
And in a way, paint Greed in the light that Murmur saw him, or at the very least the light he pretended was the case: Predictable, and most interested in maintaining his own little kingdom. Not a threat to Heaven, not a threat to stability. Murmur was gambling that in the long run those of the Holy City would be disinclined to repeat this endeavor and instead choose to leave Greed to his devices. He keeps to his own, they to theirs, and the other Sins will have to find new pawns for their games. Murmur of course would always be on their hit list, but that was a problem for a later date.
With Heaven out of the way peaceably, Greed could focus his efforts on the real problem: Envy. "There are other boons to this path," Murmur advises, mysterious as ever. He's not going to go into unnecessary detail, he's not lead Greed astray yet. Finishing off his tea he set the cup aside gingerly, pushing it back toward the Sin to return to his treasury, wherever that might be. "Excellent. Understood. I will return when I have obtained what I need."
He'd like more time to heal, but time was never a gift he had enough of. Before Greed could say anything else he was gone, little more than a gentle cool breeze and the faintest flap of a wing to signal his departure. He'd return by the appointed hour.
➥ Closed to @ albatrossomen | the devils, they do the despicable
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nestingdevil
2023-06-09 03:07 am (UTC)(link)
On the outside, the building's in a sad state of dilapidation. The heat's cooked the old brick to a chalky kind of white. Like the bones of a beast long-since dead, they loom baked and forgotten; the stamp of a former business, a faded memory. Even the windows don't give much away. Nailed-in boards cover what had probably once been full panes of glass back in its prime and the shutter-door tin around front's pocketed in rust holes that gap and gasp as if trying desperately, so desperately, to take a breath. The town's a ghost. A tomb. One empty, quiet, and made of dust.
It goes against everything he is, being back here. The garage had once been his haunting ground; a place he lurked, did business, and turned a would-be profit. Those times had been different. He still had a mild connection with them back then. Not friendly, not in line, no, but a cordial kind of relationship where one of them could drop something in his lap and instead of trying to kill him, all they asked was, "How much?"
Funny, how life comes full circle.
Greed pushes a chair back, making it tilt unevenly on its legs. The man he has strapped to it looks like he's seen better days. His skin is sickly and blue; the sweat sticking to him is filmy like soap scum. His eyes, though: those are the most telling. Even under the cop-bright swing lamp, they glow a smokey kind of green. A neon toxic, poisoning with otherworldly radiation.
The Sin leers forward and as his claws grip and hold the edge of the lamp, his jaws curl upwards. The cigarette in his mouth all but illuminates his smile in a fluorescent, wet-slick sneer. "Hey, hey," he snap his fingers in front of the man's face. "No, you don't get to quit on me just yet, friend. We've still got some things to talk about."
In response, the man spits a glowing wad of wet onto the floor, painting the concrete in a blacklight smear. Greed merely looks at it, and with a petulant look and an exasperated grunt, he swipes the tip of his boot over the spittle. "Ehh - see, that wasn't very nice," he slurs his words through curtains of smoke. They part over his face as soft as a graying blush, kissing and dusting his expression.
The devil sighs, removing his cigarette. "I get it. I really do. But that sibling of mine did something pretty stupid, even for them. And because they couldn't help themselves, and because you don't seem too different, we've now found ourselves here." He inhales sharply, causing a flutter of leftover smoke to wind on the corner of his mouth. "So, I'll ask you again. Where is Envy now?"
"I told you to fuck off - " The man hisses. Where his voice should be hoarse and dry, the tone of it is thick. Gurgled. It splits in two in his throat: one, that sickness. The other, a desperate, raspy sound like a drafty window or a gas leak. The man is sick, and not in the normal way humans get. That bright, throbbing green in his spit, the way his veins squirm like worms, the corpse(y) shade of his skin. It's a cancer. An envious leech, consuming everything he is, everything he was, until there's nothing left. The deep bruises under his eyes sink into his sockets and a foam slowly froths and shrinks on his lips, slicking the cracks to a gross, Vaseline sheen.
Greed's frown dips. He shakes his head and ashes his cigarette on the man's thigh. "Yeah, already too gone, aren't you? That's a shame - " With a vacant look, the Sin leisurely begins to crush his cigarette into the other's forehead. Twist by twist, grind for grind, he drills the ember into the man's skin; the hiss of flesh and burnt hair crawling in whiffs of green disease.
"Would you like to try again?"
The familiar voice came from above, emotionless as ever. Little more than a dark silhouette punctuated with two copper-sulfate fire eyes perched on a beam as comfortable as though he'd been there the whole time. Perhaps he had been, Murmur did have a terrible habit of being where he wasn't wanted for far longer than anyone might desire. Even Greed.
He didn't budge from that perch, merely watched Greed with that peculiar intensity of his. Just what, exactly, was he offering here?
The familiar voice came from above, emotionless as ever. Little more than a dark silhouette punctuated with two copper-sulfate fire eyes perched on a beam as comfortable as though he'd been there the whole time. Perhaps he had been, Murmur did have a terrible habit of being where he wasn't wanted for far longer than anyone might desire. Even Greed.
He didn't budge from that perch, merely watched Greed with that peculiar intensity of his. Just what, exactly, was he offering here?
Halfway deep into the man's forehead, the Sin calmly pauses. His eyebrows stretch sleepily up his forehead; his look, a comical combination of slight annoyance and dramatic exasperation. Because, of course, the Angel would speak in riddles even now, wouldn't he?
Greed pulls his hand away, shaking the cigarette out before tossing it to the concrete. "Y'know, it would be a lot easier if you just cut to the chase, Feathers," he starts in through a cracking smile. Because he couldn't stay mad at Murmur, no. Not after all he's done, not after everything they've been through. Truly, he should be used to it by now. Where devils are clear cut with their intentions, angels? They're vague, abstract creatures with tongues laced in enough convoluted and ambiguous directions that'd it be easy, all too easy, to get lost in a simple conversation.
So instead of guessing, the devil merely throws his hands over his head in slack surrender. "If you've got a better way, I'm all ears," he hums and turns his wrists, exposing his palms to the ceiling. "Otherwise, I'm gunna do him the favor." Greed grips his hip on one side and uses his other hand to lift the man's head back, showing the knotted veins writhing in his throat.
"Envy's been using this one for a while, so either way, he isn't coming back from it once we're done."
Greed pulls his hand away, shaking the cigarette out before tossing it to the concrete. "Y'know, it would be a lot easier if you just cut to the chase, Feathers," he starts in through a cracking smile. Because he couldn't stay mad at Murmur, no. Not after all he's done, not after everything they've been through. Truly, he should be used to it by now. Where devils are clear cut with their intentions, angels? They're vague, abstract creatures with tongues laced in enough convoluted and ambiguous directions that'd it be easy, all too easy, to get lost in a simple conversation.
So instead of guessing, the devil merely throws his hands over his head in slack surrender. "If you've got a better way, I'm all ears," he hums and turns his wrists, exposing his palms to the ceiling. "Otherwise, I'm gunna do him the favor." Greed grips his hip on one side and uses his other hand to lift the man's head back, showing the knotted veins writhing in his throat.
"Envy's been using this one for a while, so either way, he isn't coming back from it once we're done."
It was a difference in origin. While creatures of horror and vice, demons were rooted in a semblance of reality. Borne of twisted souls and darkest desires they may at times seem alien, but the allure was in how very human they were at their cores, even those that had never been. The difference was merely in how extreme they took those desires and ran with them. They were, after all, forbidden cravings. Angels on the other hand were something else entirely. Fragments of the very universe given form, mathematics and stardust swirled into beings and granted thought. Was it then any wonder that an entity that existed on the furthest edges of where matter began to take form, and traversed time as one might walk a mountain path, would have a method of speech and thought always jut a little bit perplexing?
After all, Murmur believed himself being quite frank and clear in his words, as such Greed's display of exasperation earned little more than a puzzled expression and a faint bird-like tilt of his head. "Would you like to try again?" He repeated, emphasizing the last word as though that somehow would make his meaning more clear. "If so, then I suggest you move this along..."
He lets the words drip cold, hanging heavy in the are like a late evening's freezing fog, only breaking the silence long enough to add: "Leave the vocal cords intact."
In other words, hurry up. What exactly he planned to do once the deed was done was anyone's guess. Angels didn't often make it a habit of letting anyone know exactly what sets of skills they had up their sleeves.
After all, Murmur believed himself being quite frank and clear in his words, as such Greed's display of exasperation earned little more than a puzzled expression and a faint bird-like tilt of his head. "Would you like to try again?" He repeated, emphasizing the last word as though that somehow would make his meaning more clear. "If so, then I suggest you move this along..."
He lets the words drip cold, hanging heavy in the are like a late evening's freezing fog, only breaking the silence long enough to add: "Leave the vocal cords intact."
In other words, hurry up. What exactly he planned to do once the deed was done was anyone's guess. Angels didn't often make it a habit of letting anyone know exactly what sets of skills they had up their sleeves.
The burnt smear in the man's forehead smolders, letting off trails of leaky, sewer-pipe smoke. Greed watches it - the pricks of his eyes shrinking to needling points. Murmur's coyness doesn't catch him off guard. Least, not anymore. It's part of the usual: the status quote, the inch-to-mile ratio they've built over the years, and there's a million possibilities of just what the Angel has planned.
The Sin shrugs his shoulders. "Suit yourself," he hums while a second skin lithely slinks up his arm. It plays on his flesh as jaggedly as an audio turner; the pattern, sporadic. Where there had been fingers and knuckles, it's now claws and smooth carbon that remains. The epitome of avarice made hard, made sharp, made deep, deep down like buried treasures birthed by sheer pressure and force alone.
It only takes one swipe to open up the man's thigh.
"Could have just said something before. I wouldn't have wasted my time," Greed consciously sidesteps away as the blood floods in. And flood it does. From the garish tear, a thick, blackened-red pusses out of the man. Large bubbles breathe themselves to the surface, their pcks and pops phlegmy and diseased. Whether the individual feels it at all is anyone's guess. But his blank face, his slowly paling complexion: they say otherwise. He's too far gone. Too far taken by jealousy, it's promises, and it's delivery of complete and absolute nothing.
Greed flicks his wrist, sending a painter's sprinkle of blood onto the floor.
The Sin shrugs his shoulders. "Suit yourself," he hums while a second skin lithely slinks up his arm. It plays on his flesh as jaggedly as an audio turner; the pattern, sporadic. Where there had been fingers and knuckles, it's now claws and smooth carbon that remains. The epitome of avarice made hard, made sharp, made deep, deep down like buried treasures birthed by sheer pressure and force alone.
It only takes one swipe to open up the man's thigh.
"Could have just said something before. I wouldn't have wasted my time," Greed consciously sidesteps away as the blood floods in. And flood it does. From the garish tear, a thick, blackened-red pusses out of the man. Large bubbles breathe themselves to the surface, their pcks and pops phlegmy and diseased. Whether the individual feels it at all is anyone's guess. But his blank face, his slowly paling complexion: they say otherwise. He's too far gone. Too far taken by jealousy, it's promises, and it's delivery of complete and absolute nothing.
Greed flicks his wrist, sending a painter's sprinkle of blood onto the floor.
Solus watches with thinly veiled disgust. He is, perhaps, the only one who watches. The only one who cares - all the rest have already turned back to their entertainment. Does Greed think he's the only parasite to try burrowing his way into the heart of this empire? Of its emperor? Solus has lived far too long and suffered far too much heartbreak to crack from such crude tactics.
"Pitiful creature. You want what you cannot have, yet even when you have it you will never be satisfied." Solus disregards the fact that he could very well be talking about himself. "It will never be enough. Man is filled with unrelenting want and you - you are the purest form of it. Begone."
That's right, he must turn his eyes away from the temptation. He must stand strong, for the burden of a thousand, thousand people rests upon his shoulders. Like the sole remaining pillar of a ruin crumbling towards the sea.
But even stone is worn down by wind and time.
"Pitiful creature. You want what you cannot have, yet even when you have it you will never be satisfied." Solus disregards the fact that he could very well be talking about himself. "It will never be enough. Man is filled with unrelenting want and you - you are the purest form of it. Begone."
That's right, he must turn his eyes away from the temptation. He must stand strong, for the burden of a thousand, thousand people rests upon his shoulders. Like the sole remaining pillar of a ruin crumbling towards the sea.
But even stone is worn down by wind and time.
"And deprive you of your entertainment?" Murmur asked, a lilt of amusement in his tone.
The angel watched, his gaze intent while expression as emotionless as it ever was. There was something about his posture, though no obvious shift had occurred a tension had grown, a coil spring wound so tight it was ready to snap and when it did...
He swooped. Wings no more than a faint shadow in the dim light, a light breeze to twist and turn the smoke that hung heavy in the air. Predatorily he stalked around his prey, coming to lean just up beside the dying man's ear from behind. He sniffed, inhaling deep and for the briefest moment there was a flash of just a few too many teeth to be considered a smile. The man was quite still by now, unquestionably dead, and yet Murmur didn't seem put off by this in the least. Murmur, close to his ear, whispered: "Come back."
No response.
"Come baack~." Sing-song, almost mocking as he called into the dead man's ear. For several more moments there was nothing, how could there be? None could drag the dead back from Hell's gates... surely?
Yet he twitched. "There you are," Murmur crooned encouragingly. "Come back. Follow my voice." A twitch, a sputter, a phlegmy gurgle as blood and mucous crawled from the man's desperate lungs and out of his throat. He was a right sight, choking and coughing and yet undeniably what had been quite thoroughly dead was... at least some vague facsimile of alive. Murmur moved just enough to peer into his eyes, the terrified man peered back but before the gurgling sound could become a scream a hand slammed his jaw shut, a finger tapping out a firm "no" against his lips and all that escaped was a pathetic whimper.
"None of that," He snapped firmly. And when the tears began to well he sighed in disgust and stood, releasing the man's jaw. "Enough. Really, a little death and you fall apart so easily. Leave all that bravado back in Hell did you?"
The man, now trembling in an effort to control his sobbing only looked at Murmur in horror. "Y-y-... you know?" He croaked, voice cracked and strained in his tortured vessel. "Can... you can spare me, can't you? Take me out of there."
Again Murmur only stared at him impassively. Unmoved by the pleas. "No." The sobbing picked back up. "But I can offer a temporary stay of execution," Again he leaned in, this time to hiss the words with the underlying threat of 'I can send you back whenever I want.'
"So long as you prove useful to me. Do we have an understanding?"
Solemnly the man nodded, it would appear that even a few moments on the rack were enough to urge a little more cooperation. Moving back around to the front Murmur made a grand gesture for Greed to continue.
"He should be feeling more... amenable to our cause."
The angel watched, his gaze intent while expression as emotionless as it ever was. There was something about his posture, though no obvious shift had occurred a tension had grown, a coil spring wound so tight it was ready to snap and when it did...
He swooped. Wings no more than a faint shadow in the dim light, a light breeze to twist and turn the smoke that hung heavy in the air. Predatorily he stalked around his prey, coming to lean just up beside the dying man's ear from behind. He sniffed, inhaling deep and for the briefest moment there was a flash of just a few too many teeth to be considered a smile. The man was quite still by now, unquestionably dead, and yet Murmur didn't seem put off by this in the least. Murmur, close to his ear, whispered: "Come back."
No response.
"Come baack~." Sing-song, almost mocking as he called into the dead man's ear. For several more moments there was nothing, how could there be? None could drag the dead back from Hell's gates... surely?
Yet he twitched. "There you are," Murmur crooned encouragingly. "Come back. Follow my voice." A twitch, a sputter, a phlegmy gurgle as blood and mucous crawled from the man's desperate lungs and out of his throat. He was a right sight, choking and coughing and yet undeniably what had been quite thoroughly dead was... at least some vague facsimile of alive. Murmur moved just enough to peer into his eyes, the terrified man peered back but before the gurgling sound could become a scream a hand slammed his jaw shut, a finger tapping out a firm "no" against his lips and all that escaped was a pathetic whimper.
"None of that," He snapped firmly. And when the tears began to well he sighed in disgust and stood, releasing the man's jaw. "Enough. Really, a little death and you fall apart so easily. Leave all that bravado back in Hell did you?"
The man, now trembling in an effort to control his sobbing only looked at Murmur in horror. "Y-y-... you know?" He croaked, voice cracked and strained in his tortured vessel. "Can... you can spare me, can't you? Take me out of there."
Again Murmur only stared at him impassively. Unmoved by the pleas. "No." The sobbing picked back up. "But I can offer a temporary stay of execution," Again he leaned in, this time to hiss the words with the underlying threat of 'I can send you back whenever I want.'
"So long as you prove useful to me. Do we have an understanding?"
Solemnly the man nodded, it would appear that even a few moments on the rack were enough to urge a little more cooperation. Moving back around to the front Murmur made a grand gesture for Greed to continue.
"He should be feeling more... amenable to our cause."
Surely, maybe, but there's his old phrase coming right back: nothing's impossible and there's no such thing as no such thing. Even for souls far lost, far gone, far locked away behind a fiery key and a cage of brimstone - they had a chance. Not for salvation, not a Hell's chance, but for a second to say their peace. Or, in this case, to provide a sliver of information that could be useful. He'd never say that Angel wasn't handy in that way. Sometimes, it took a crooked tongue and a little coaxing. But here? They needed a bit more of that heavenly charm. And as Murmur purrs the man's soul back into the land of the living, the Sin's quiet isn't light, it's heavy. A shadowy weight coiled between one wingbeat and the next, waiting for the call.
A lighter loudly clicks open, spinning up spark and fire as he breathes life into a new cigarette. "Now that is a terrible trick," Greed's voice is rough through the smoke. It tangles with it, melds with it, as if the two are one in the same. "Glad I'll never have to go through that." Because he could only imagine. How it would feel to sink down, down, down, only to be ripped back up again. Souls, mortal ones anyway, are fragile things. They're easy to tear apart. Piecing them back together again, though? That takes skill. Finesse. It's something neither him nor his can or would ever be able to do. Even in Heaven, it's a rare thing. So for it to come so easily, so simply, well -
The devil's inhale is slow and relaxed as he drags puff after puff deep into his chest. He'll have to ask later. For now, business calls.
"Welcome back," Greed snarls through a smile that's the furthest thing from nice. "Enjoy the trip, ya little pissant?" A litter of ash trembles off his cigarette as it bobs and jumps on the sharps of his teeth. "Gunna take your silence as a no. So, why don't we start from the beginning, hmn?" The Sin circles while he talks. He gives a wide birth at first, only to narrow as he goes; his lazy stroll punctuated by his heels as they tnk and clck atop the concrete floor like a bell tolling off hours. "You made a deal with one of mine. And now that ugly little piece of shit's decided to hightail it outta here."
He makes a second circle before moving in front of the man. Where there had been a bit of mirth in his look before, a cool expression passes over his face. It's distant and a aloof; focused and chilled. A fire forced low, low, low, yet still burning despite his efforts. There's no doubting his nature in the moment: he's a devil. The kindness, the playful tone, the flirting on an all-too-satisfied smile. He can't muster any of them. The man may not have been part of the raid on the 'Nest, but he's connected.
And avarice, ah. It's never said no to burning a few loose ends.
Greed edges his palm over the back of the chair, letting his nails bite fresh ash into the frame. "Envy," he says. "You're going to tell me where they are. After that, well. I would say I'm sorry, but you've made things a bit difficult for me. And I'm a little tired of being fucked around with. Think you understand, don't you?"
The man seems to understand and as he gingerly nods his skull, the Sin rolls his cigarette from one side of his mouth to the other. "Glad we can understand each other. I can't make you a deal that'll save you - you already fucked yourself on that. But prove yourself needy enough, and you might just have a better chance." He tips the chair back just a bit more to get his point across and the man tenses up, bracing for the fall. "Ah, yeah, that translates, doesn't it? Don't have to explain myself twice."
Greed leans forward to sigh a blistering cloud of smoke in the man's face. "Show me where they went."
A lighter loudly clicks open, spinning up spark and fire as he breathes life into a new cigarette. "Now that is a terrible trick," Greed's voice is rough through the smoke. It tangles with it, melds with it, as if the two are one in the same. "Glad I'll never have to go through that." Because he could only imagine. How it would feel to sink down, down, down, only to be ripped back up again. Souls, mortal ones anyway, are fragile things. They're easy to tear apart. Piecing them back together again, though? That takes skill. Finesse. It's something neither him nor his can or would ever be able to do. Even in Heaven, it's a rare thing. So for it to come so easily, so simply, well -
The devil's inhale is slow and relaxed as he drags puff after puff deep into his chest. He'll have to ask later. For now, business calls.
"Welcome back," Greed snarls through a smile that's the furthest thing from nice. "Enjoy the trip, ya little pissant?" A litter of ash trembles off his cigarette as it bobs and jumps on the sharps of his teeth. "Gunna take your silence as a no. So, why don't we start from the beginning, hmn?" The Sin circles while he talks. He gives a wide birth at first, only to narrow as he goes; his lazy stroll punctuated by his heels as they tnk and clck atop the concrete floor like a bell tolling off hours. "You made a deal with one of mine. And now that ugly little piece of shit's decided to hightail it outta here."
He makes a second circle before moving in front of the man. Where there had been a bit of mirth in his look before, a cool expression passes over his face. It's distant and a aloof; focused and chilled. A fire forced low, low, low, yet still burning despite his efforts. There's no doubting his nature in the moment: he's a devil. The kindness, the playful tone, the flirting on an all-too-satisfied smile. He can't muster any of them. The man may not have been part of the raid on the 'Nest, but he's connected.
And avarice, ah. It's never said no to burning a few loose ends.
Greed edges his palm over the back of the chair, letting his nails bite fresh ash into the frame. "Envy," he says. "You're going to tell me where they are. After that, well. I would say I'm sorry, but you've made things a bit difficult for me. And I'm a little tired of being fucked around with. Think you understand, don't you?"
The man seems to understand and as he gingerly nods his skull, the Sin rolls his cigarette from one side of his mouth to the other. "Glad we can understand each other. I can't make you a deal that'll save you - you already fucked yourself on that. But prove yourself needy enough, and you might just have a better chance." He tips the chair back just a bit more to get his point across and the man tenses up, bracing for the fall. "Ah, yeah, that translates, doesn't it? Don't have to explain myself twice."
Greed leans forward to sigh a blistering cloud of smoke in the man's face. "Show me where they went."
Eyes flicking briefly to the devil, expression as unreadable as ever, Murmur let out a faint breath through his nose. "Did you think your kind held the monopoly on terrible?" He asked, perhaps genuinely, though with him it is always hard to say what stirs beneath the surface of those deep waters. It was true this was not a gift they all possessed, fewer still would be willing to put to use unless absolutely necessary. It left the impression that while new angels hadn't been made in a very, very long time, Murmur still counted as exceptionally old among them. Perhaps even among the first. Who could say? If Greed wanted answers, he would have to learn how to ask for them.
At Greed's sentiment of being grateful he'd never be yanked around like a puppet on a string Murmur simply smirked, something cold and almost predatory there before he turned his eyes back to his new pet monkey. For the time being Murmur would return to his lurking just out of the light, observing silently while Greed pressed the man for information.
When the final question fell the man seemed equal parts terrified and troubled, he feared Envy of course, but he also feared these two. Greed and his barely repressed violence, and the strange lurking angel that just ripped him from Hell and could send him back at any moment. Which was worse, he couldn't decide. "I-I-I can't... I don't know how..."
Murmur moved in again, hissing in his ear. "Then you will take us there."
As though he had sensed that the reason the man couldn't tell them was because he lacked a method by which to explain, but this gave him a different option. One he wasn't certain he liked much better... but what choice did he have? He nodded, if it weren't for the whole death thing he'd be sweating bullets right now.
At Greed's sentiment of being grateful he'd never be yanked around like a puppet on a string Murmur simply smirked, something cold and almost predatory there before he turned his eyes back to his new pet monkey. For the time being Murmur would return to his lurking just out of the light, observing silently while Greed pressed the man for information.
When the final question fell the man seemed equal parts terrified and troubled, he feared Envy of course, but he also feared these two. Greed and his barely repressed violence, and the strange lurking angel that just ripped him from Hell and could send him back at any moment. Which was worse, he couldn't decide. "I-I-I can't... I don't know how..."
Murmur moved in again, hissing in his ear. "Then you will take us there."
As though he had sensed that the reason the man couldn't tell them was because he lacked a method by which to explain, but this gave him a different option. One he wasn't certain he liked much better... but what choice did he have? He nodded, if it weren't for the whole death thing he'd be sweating bullets right now.
Greed releases the chair, making the legs thunder against the concrete as if they are the only sound in the world, and the dim lamp hanging above the man blares briefly to a white-hot simmer. It's clear from the pressure in the bulb (and the painful whine it makes), the Sin is either intrigued, irritated, or a healthy combination of both. However, his face is completely unreadable. Uncharacteristically so. Chilly, smoldering, distant, and oh-so present: he's a mix of it all. A mix of everything, and isn't that so greed.
Another roll of smoke winds off his tongue as it splits in two before wetly zippering back together in strings of sweet-spun gold. "Guess I can't say no to that option. It's not like we have any other good ones." The devil unclips a ring from his belt and slides one of his nails between the clasp, releasing a key that looks fairly new. "At least tell me you're smart enough to handle a stick, friend."
Though he doesn't get an answer, Greed tosses the key to the floor. It lands between the man's spread heels; its nickel sheen almost glittering. Like a token from the ferry man thrown just out of reach. The Sin watches the man try to nudge it closer and as the metal disappears under the sole of a shoe, the slits of his eyes wildly expand again.
"Had to get a chauffeur, didn't you?" He asks Murmur, the sarcasm coming back, back, back in huffs of sulfur-burnt tobacco. "Y'know, you may have some talents there, feathers, but that ego of yours is really fucking something. Eh, whatever," he sucks at his smoke and eats away what's left of the cigarette in one long inhale. "Guess I should expect it by now, shouldn't I?"
Greed tosses the remnants of his half-cooked filter to the floor and grinds it with his heel, forcing bits of ash to scatter like spiders disturbed from their nest. "We'll do it your way, this time." The Sin steps to the side of the chair and gives it one last shove of his foot. Again, the legs teeter and totter, and the man scrambles around his loosening (and when did that happen?) binds. And as the ropes fall away, Greed strolls out towards the door; his back, an expanding shadow that seems to eat and bite at the floor as if a thousand or more souls were trapped inside, clawing to break free.
Another roll of smoke winds off his tongue as it splits in two before wetly zippering back together in strings of sweet-spun gold. "Guess I can't say no to that option. It's not like we have any other good ones." The devil unclips a ring from his belt and slides one of his nails between the clasp, releasing a key that looks fairly new. "At least tell me you're smart enough to handle a stick, friend."
Though he doesn't get an answer, Greed tosses the key to the floor. It lands between the man's spread heels; its nickel sheen almost glittering. Like a token from the ferry man thrown just out of reach. The Sin watches the man try to nudge it closer and as the metal disappears under the sole of a shoe, the slits of his eyes wildly expand again.
"Had to get a chauffeur, didn't you?" He asks Murmur, the sarcasm coming back, back, back in huffs of sulfur-burnt tobacco. "Y'know, you may have some talents there, feathers, but that ego of yours is really fucking something. Eh, whatever," he sucks at his smoke and eats away what's left of the cigarette in one long inhale. "Guess I should expect it by now, shouldn't I?"
Greed tosses the remnants of his half-cooked filter to the floor and grinds it with his heel, forcing bits of ash to scatter like spiders disturbed from their nest. "We'll do it your way, this time." The Sin steps to the side of the chair and gives it one last shove of his foot. Again, the legs teeter and totter, and the man scrambles around his loosening (and when did that happen?) binds. And as the ropes fall away, Greed strolls out towards the door; his back, an expanding shadow that seems to eat and bite at the floor as if a thousand or more souls were trapped inside, clawing to break free.
The display of heat and rage didn't seem to trouble the angel much, though it was still very effective in causing their new pet to tremble with fear. He knew he was in deep, there wasn't any getting out of this now. Somehow he doubted running would do any good, and he still wasn't sure which one was worse: The demon who made his viciousness and rage clear, or the angel that was impossible to read but dangled him on a spider's web all the same. Who knew death would be so complicated?
At Greed's quip Murmur smirked faintly, offering him his most innocent look and a faint shrug. "Now I know I've told you before I don't do monkey work, Greed." Driving, apparently, counted as monkey work. "You really must start listening when I speak." He doesn't only do it for his own amusement, after all.
Just partly.
Chuckling at the Sin's retreating back he glances over at the human fumbling to adjust to his newfound lack of feeling. That will take some getting used to, and he better be quick about it. "Come along, do try to keep up." For this one he would have far less patience than he's had with the demon.
He actually likes the demon, after all.
At Greed's quip Murmur smirked faintly, offering him his most innocent look and a faint shrug. "Now I know I've told you before I don't do monkey work, Greed." Driving, apparently, counted as monkey work. "You really must start listening when I speak." He doesn't only do it for his own amusement, after all.
Just partly.
Chuckling at the Sin's retreating back he glances over at the human fumbling to adjust to his newfound lack of feeling. That will take some getting used to, and he better be quick about it. "Come along, do try to keep up." For this one he would have far less patience than he's had with the demon.
He actually likes the demon, after all.
Over his shoulder, the Sin sweeps his hand with half-hearted wave. His fingers cock off to the side and a mix leftover smoke and his own, silky soot twirl together as sure as a gun in the after shot.
"Yeah, yeah. I heard you before," he hums as he spins his gaze downward to trace out their vehicle in question. It isn't his usual choice of car. The paint job's seen better years; its color and chrome faded and beaten by the cruel fist of the sun. He traces a faint line of steel trim running its body and as a thin, bone-colored blush of dust collects on his finger, the devil's smile charms right back into place. It takes very little for his attentions to wander. And where there had been rage, burning, now there's a venomous satisfaction.
Because he'll take what he's owed. He'll take what's his. And he'll take it just as the good book says. A pound of flesh adds up, after all.
Greed jerks the driver's side door open, making the springs inside it groan and croak like a casket, airy with age. "Well, c'mon, bring you little plaything so we can get a move on. Envy doesn't stay in one place for too long." He gives the door a none-too-subtle kick with his shoe if only to snap their human guide to the task at hand.
Truly, despite how much of a pain Murmur can be, that feeling? It's certainly mutual. And he's willing to follow his lead if it means he'll get his well-deserved payout.
"Yeah, yeah. I heard you before," he hums as he spins his gaze downward to trace out their vehicle in question. It isn't his usual choice of car. The paint job's seen better years; its color and chrome faded and beaten by the cruel fist of the sun. He traces a faint line of steel trim running its body and as a thin, bone-colored blush of dust collects on his finger, the devil's smile charms right back into place. It takes very little for his attentions to wander. And where there had been rage, burning, now there's a venomous satisfaction.
Because he'll take what he's owed. He'll take what's his. And he'll take it just as the good book says. A pound of flesh adds up, after all.
Greed jerks the driver's side door open, making the springs inside it groan and croak like a casket, airy with age. "Well, c'mon, bring you little plaything so we can get a move on. Envy doesn't stay in one place for too long." He gives the door a none-too-subtle kick with his shoe if only to snap their human guide to the task at hand.
Truly, despite how much of a pain Murmur can be, that feeling? It's certainly mutual. And he's willing to follow his lead if it means he'll get his well-deserved payout.
➥ Mafia AU | The World Is Your Damn Oyster (CW: Blood, Gore, 18+, There's Probably More Here)
nestingdevil
2024-06-14 03:37 am (UTC)(link)
Mob well, my friends. 🥂
[ When it comes to moving cash safely and effectively, there are very few as proficient as him. Not only is he accustomed to pressure and multitasking but he is also dogged when it comes to completing these tasks.
Which is why, complete with the threads to make him look the part, he saunters through the crowd with a briefcase in tow. Unlike what one might see in a movie there are no supersized bodyguards flanking him or an ornate golden chain connecting the case to his wrist. Why? Because they know better than to test him.
The last time someone got Greedy he broke their hand, apologized, and even had the wherewithal to take them to get their hand treated after. Michael abhors violence, choosing only to use it when absolutely necessary and even then, he tends to take it easy on those weaker than him. Is that an award winning combination for someone affiliated with the mob?
Not unless your nickname happens to be The Angel — not just for his kindness. He can also just as easily send a man to an early grave if they choose not to relent when he gives them a choice. A few take his grace and even thank him for it but there have been several who chose to fight. Whether they still roam these streets or not, he really wouldn’t know.
Eventually, amidst getting lost in his thoughts, he finds himself at his destination: The Devil’s Nest. He can smell it before he even sets foot inside, the remnants of tobacco, alcohol and the familiar scent of bodies likely tangled in intimate embraces. But he isn’t here to watch the show, he is here to deliver the case to the owner of this decadent little house of sin — a tithe, from the smaller fish that share the pond.
And he spots him, it would be difficult not to. The timber of his voice, the way everyone seems to gravitate to him by the bar as if waiting for the show to begin. In this world, information is key and no one has more of it than Greed. Michael doesn’t have to call him, he simply waits for the man to feel his eyes on him and turns to walk into the back room with the case in tow.
This may be Greed’s place but he isn’t about to trust a roomful of strangers to abide by the rules of the house. Once there, he sets the briefcase on the table, opens it, and leans back against the table to peer through his sunglasses at the door, waiting.
Truthfully, the case isn’t the only reason he is here. When he hears footsteps, he murmurs the next words out. Jealousy has no place here, not with them, he looks more amused than anything else. ]
You kept me waiting, though I see you were busy. As usual. It’s all here, I counted it twice. They were appreciative and hope to continue doing business with you in the future.
Which is why, complete with the threads to make him look the part, he saunters through the crowd with a briefcase in tow. Unlike what one might see in a movie there are no supersized bodyguards flanking him or an ornate golden chain connecting the case to his wrist. Why? Because they know better than to test him.
The last time someone got Greedy he broke their hand, apologized, and even had the wherewithal to take them to get their hand treated after. Michael abhors violence, choosing only to use it when absolutely necessary and even then, he tends to take it easy on those weaker than him. Is that an award winning combination for someone affiliated with the mob?
Not unless your nickname happens to be The Angel — not just for his kindness. He can also just as easily send a man to an early grave if they choose not to relent when he gives them a choice. A few take his grace and even thank him for it but there have been several who chose to fight. Whether they still roam these streets or not, he really wouldn’t know.
Eventually, amidst getting lost in his thoughts, he finds himself at his destination: The Devil’s Nest. He can smell it before he even sets foot inside, the remnants of tobacco, alcohol and the familiar scent of bodies likely tangled in intimate embraces. But he isn’t here to watch the show, he is here to deliver the case to the owner of this decadent little house of sin — a tithe, from the smaller fish that share the pond.
And he spots him, it would be difficult not to. The timber of his voice, the way everyone seems to gravitate to him by the bar as if waiting for the show to begin. In this world, information is key and no one has more of it than Greed. Michael doesn’t have to call him, he simply waits for the man to feel his eyes on him and turns to walk into the back room with the case in tow.
This may be Greed’s place but he isn’t about to trust a roomful of strangers to abide by the rules of the house. Once there, he sets the briefcase on the table, opens it, and leans back against the table to peer through his sunglasses at the door, waiting.
Truthfully, the case isn’t the only reason he is here. When he hears footsteps, he murmurs the next words out. Jealousy has no place here, not with them, he looks more amused than anything else. ]
You kept me waiting, though I see you were busy. As usual. It’s all here, I counted it twice. They were appreciative and hope to continue doing business with you in the future.
Murmur had moved to follow after Greed, his pace unhurried and his demeanor unconcerned. They would find Envy, all in good time. Really all he needed was a starting point, the pet would get them there... even if he failed to get them there in time. The aforementioned man had spent some time scrabbling to pick up the key, fumbling it back to the floor more times than Murmur apparently found acceptable.
"Get moving!" He snapped, the previously heated air now shifting to a biting, cruel cold.
"You try pickin' things up when you can't feel your fingers..." The man was muttering, finally managing to paw the key into an awkward meaty hand.
"Be silent," Murmur gestured, clamping his fingers together like the closing of a mouth, and the man found himself gagging and gasping, unable to speak. Apparently he was already irritated by the complaints. "Drive, monkey." He nearly snarled, the cold causing delicate curls of ice to form on every surface before it finally subsided.
This was a side of Murmur Greed probably hadn't seen much. Evidently the angel was not beyond cruelty, and certainly had no grace left to give to one who had so willingly damned his soul. Especially for one who damned it over envy of all sins. For his part Murmur helped himself to the passenger seat, spending the time to level an expectant, judging stare at the now silent man shuffling to take his spot behind the wheel.
"Get moving!" He snapped, the previously heated air now shifting to a biting, cruel cold.
"You try pickin' things up when you can't feel your fingers..." The man was muttering, finally managing to paw the key into an awkward meaty hand.
"Be silent," Murmur gestured, clamping his fingers together like the closing of a mouth, and the man found himself gagging and gasping, unable to speak. Apparently he was already irritated by the complaints. "Drive, monkey." He nearly snarled, the cold causing delicate curls of ice to form on every surface before it finally subsided.
This was a side of Murmur Greed probably hadn't seen much. Evidently the angel was not beyond cruelty, and certainly had no grace left to give to one who had so willingly damned his soul. Especially for one who damned it over envy of all sins. For his part Murmur helped himself to the passenger seat, spending the time to level an expectant, judging stare at the now silent man shuffling to take his spot behind the wheel.
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