Terrible housecleaning habits, leaving gore to rot into the concrete. The ants and roaches will be well fed at the very least. How thoughtful of him to feed the scavengers. They can have the rest after Murmur's done with the blood, or perhaps if there's a chef around they'll certainly know what to do with a fresh goat.
"The infernal are not exactly known for being particularly forgiving, no," There was a faint bit of wry humor in his tone at that. Slighting devils was never a particularly wise decision. No wonder Greed and his were skittish, though they should be far more worried about their own than Murmur. If he wanted to cause them trouble he would have simply left Greed to deal with the consequences of his carelessness. "Ah, don't be so cynical. You have thus far escaped their grasp, that is a change, subtle though it may be. Change is ever around us, one must simply learn how to observe it." Cheeky and sly as always, Murmur was happy to end the conversation there with their path forward illuminated by sickly light.
Appropriate, in a place like this. Where shadows and secrets dwelled far away from prying eyes. Little did Greed realize Murmur's were the most prying of them all. He just couldn't help himself, it was in his nature. "Nothing's free," He agrees, and in a way Greed was still racking up a bill. Rescued, babysat, his minions tolerated, and his headquarters hidden from sight? Murmur was doing a lot of work here he wouldn't do for just anyone. And now he was about to crack out the forbidden magic? Greed was going to owe him quite the debt indeed. He followed along those twists and turns, cramped corridors and low arches. This place really was sprawling, and with only one goat they'd have to be tactical with their work. Ideally Bido will understand the need once he explains the process further.
Ah, they did indeed pick him adequate space. Most excellent. "Exemplary work, Bido!" High praise from the angel, especially given some of that monotone of his actually shifted into something genuine. Now it was his time to shine. Murmur made his way toward the bucket, setting down the bowl of ash collected earlier nearby and standing again to begin rolling up his sleeves. This was perhaps the first hint that there was more to the angel than met the eye. While he went out of his way to appear as unimpressive in dress and visage as possible his arms were a different story.
Flowing intricate tattoos covered them, arcane symbols of all manner were woven in such dense intricacy it would take even the most seasoned scholar ages to begin to pick them apart. In the dim light the ink seemed to have an unearthly shimmer, sometimes silver, sometimes blood red when they caught the light just right. He motioned for Greed to approach. "Bleed the goat in there, every drop you possibly can. We'll need as much as we can get." The place really was far too large, after all. Once Greed moved to comply he'd begin his work, in equal parts he mixed in the dirt and ash, a pinch here and a handful there he worked the mixture with a paint stirrer he'd found along the way.
Working like this the icy countenance fell away, and a man possessed was revealed in his place. A mad scientist over his experiment, an expert alchemist and chemist both as he muttered incantations and wove his magic into the mixture. Nearing completion they required one final component, so rare as to be nigh impossible to extract... unless one happened to have the very source on hand. Gesturing for Greed to keep his distance Murmur straightened, great wings erupting from his back all at once and the reason for his insistence on space was clear - they were huge.
Easily twenty feet, if not more, from tip to tip with pale blue-gray feathers that glittered as if covered in a fine layer of frost. They were long and narrow like a gull, or more accurately like an albatross, a bird whose omens were all too fitting now in light of their present situation. The pristine feathers were unmarred save for a striking patch at each shoulder with mottled bloodstains marring the otherwise even coloration. The striking markings of a faction only known in whispers and conspiracies, Blood Angels. Greed wasn't the only one harboring secrets, after all.
Murmur was wholly consumed by his work, and unwilling to comment on anything about his wings. Delicately he searched through his feathers, one by one plucking out small ones to crumble into the mixture. As he did so it began to take on a shimmer not unlike the frosty sheen that adorned him. Either unaware or unwilling to acknowledge there might be questions from his witnesses, Murmur went on with his explanation. "Bido, when I am finished with this I will need you to paint a stripe of this above every window and door that opens to the outside of this building. You may have to be sparing, I know not how many exist. Are you able to complete this task?"
At a distance, Greed watches with an uncharacteristic kind of silence. Though his body may be burning (and burn it does - the ash has gotten visibly thicker since they settled in), he's as still as a sculpture. A creature frozen in the moment, watching, examining, picking it all apart as his eyes tick wide only to hush down again. It's that avarice of his, always calling him back. He makes out Murmur's tattoos first, then travels up, and up, and up - his pricking gaze shivering and expanding as if a force beyond both Heaven and Hell is ripping him apart.
The Sin's outline goes out of focus and in his silence, Bido frantically moves into position. "Y-Yes. Yes, Mr. Murmur! I - I can do that for you, don't .. don't even worry about it." The creature's small body, for a second, hesitates. Trapped between all the awe that is Murmur (his encompassing presence, how his wings fill up every inch of space they can take, the way his feathers are clean yet bitter and chill) and his boss who, by all other accounts, creeps on the outer ring like a coming eclipse, he's no match for the storm. This is beyond him, beyond any of them. It's old meeting of older friends, of enemies, of a word no mortal truly knows.
Bido's scampering hands grab the bucket and with a fresh paint brush at the ready, he shuffles briskly toward the door. As if any moment, this meeting of two, opposite currents could burst. Bringing them and the whole house down in a magnificent and beautiful explosion.
"Boss," Bido whispers at the doorframe leading out to the hallway. "Boss - ?"
The cloud where Greed had once been thunders red, orange. "I'm fine, Bido. Go on, do what our friend here says, would you?" The Sin's voice echoes somewhere far, yet oh so near. It drowns itself in the crackling cloud like lightning rumbling on the horizon; an electrified sound, hot and broiling. And maybe it's just because Murmur's being so honest, but something about it: the brooding is like an answer. A call to an echo long gone, hissing back:
"You rang?"
The hallway bulbs flutter, and Bido violently shocks himself back into the present, his saucer(ed) eyes blinking themselves out of a stupor. "R-Right! I'm on it! You can count on me, Mr. Murmur. Just," his nails tickle the handle of the bucket. "-please be careful." And with that, he's gone. Lost to the building's catacombs to begin his long, agonizing work.
"He's never seen something like you before. Gotta say, I'm impressed," Greed's voice creeps from behind Murmur despite their distance. "Sorry, didn't want either of you to see how ugly I could get. But whatever you're doing, well. Seemed only fair." Eyes open in the dark, pupils gone and blaring. They eat at the fumes of sulfur and smoke like flares - their heat burning through only to relight the smog yet again in a vicious cycle. The Sin exhales low through a mouth that sounds laborious. "Looks like both of us are just full of surprises tonight."
Snakes of soot clamber to the door where Bido had once been and strangle it. "I am sorry." His tone manages to be both snide and sincere. Another contradiction. "Once this is done, it's your choice. Whatever you want." Movement stirs inside his cocoon and the Sin finally moves, forcing part of the curtain to pull back and fray along his ankles.
His boots are gone now, replaced by crooked feet and talons best serving a lizard from millennia ago. A single, elongated toe raps softly against the concrete and as it centers itself, the claw at the tip gauges deep into the rock. Despite how stretching his swill seems to go, it appears to avoid Murmur and his work entirely. Instead, it lingers on the edges of all the goings-on; its presence, an audience of sorts. One hovering, keeping its distance, but itching on the edge of its seat.
Blood Angels. Princes of Hell. Oh, what a pair they make.
Greed's claw scratches something into the concrete; the symbol, a rough mess of sketches. "I'm a man of my word, handsome. You do us a favor, and I - " A chain rattles softly nearby and light swings in his shadow - its body swimming in a sea of black, blinding fog. "From mine. From me. Keep your secrets. I owe you that much."
Because he knows, at least he can guess, the cost. The cost of this, the cost of revealing. It's a hefty price to pay. And if he's blind to Murmur? If he can be jumped by him at any time?
He was glad that neither chose to make a particularly noisy fuss over what they'd just witnessed. While it was nowhere near Murmur's full glory, nowhere near at all it was still more than enough to paint a distinctly different picture of the frosty and elusive angel. Generally he kept his secrets so close to his heart even the fact he had secrets was a secret, yet here Greed and Bido alone had been witness to just a hint of it all. One of the Holy Host, covering his vessel in arcane knowledge stolen over millennia with wing feathers stained in blood, what an odd being indeed.
He didn't say anything about the exchange between Bido and Greed, only cocked his head to the side in faint curiosity at Bido's words of warning. Offering a polite nod, he flicked his wings once, even that gentle force kicking up dust and ash all around them as he tucked them neatly against his back. For being so large, they did fold nicely. Now, with Bido scampering off to perform his duty he turned his attention to Greed, letting out a faint rueful huff of amusement. "I was there during the first war between Heaven and Hell, I have born witness to horrors far beyond you, Greed." He's hardly so delicate that he'd be intimidated by Greed going as smoldering as he possibly can.
Again his head tilts to the side, birdlike in its puzzlement while somehow still carrying the weight of eons. "Why are you apologizing? What are you offering? Be clear." As for the secrets, he nods curtly. "I will accept that much, at the very least. They may not take the news as well. But you understand there is more in Heaven, Hell, and Earth than black and white, do you not? You are among those who have forsaken one duty to carry the mantle of another.
The stray thought, for that was what it was, earned something of a light chuckle from the angel. A tinkling sound like crackling ice in the early rising sun, musical and alien all at the same time. "If I wanted to bring harm to you, then I simply would have let it happen." He's cheating but that's also what his kind does, isn't it? Stare into the heart of sin and remain untarnished? Listening to all those deepest darkest thoughts? This one, however, does not recoil. Bathed in blood, they are not so easily flustered.
Ribbons of smoke fishtail in his thunderhead and the light on the outer skirts swings into the clear. The lantern, or at least what could count as one, sways on a rusty chain. Its metal frame has seen better times by the looks of it - the steel is corroded and chewed through in spots, the curved-tin lid capping it off is slightly misshapen. A whisper of a candle barely hangs on inside and as the lantern begins to creep back into the whirlwind from whence it came, the flame shrinks - the life of it a fragile thing. One so close to its end, yet too stubborn to snuff itself out.
Greed's jaw cracks open. "A ward for a ward. Mine won't be able to find you, and neither will I. I'd say that's a fair deal." His hand appears out of the mess of soot, bringing with it trails and dust like fingers through a broken hourglass. With his claws splayed out and his hand gripping the air, he takes on the look of a shadow. Of a phantom appearing out of a fallout, offering an option.
The Sin violently snaps his wrist and the mark on the floor screams off the concrete in flecking embers and shrill noise. All the souls he's taken; all the souls he's marked. They answer to his call: in anguish, in need, in a desire to please. Greed rotates his hand to summon the symbol back up to his face. And as its red glow bleeds into his smoke screen, his eyes blare back. "This won't hurt you, but it might feel a bit weird. Hold still."
A flick of his arm later, and whatever he's conjured up ejects from his control. It slides across the room with screams, with laughter, with all the horror, all the bad, and all the good that he is. When it arrives to Murmur, it shrinks back down again. The electricity arching wildly about calms down to a static; the light dims down to small sparks and sputters.
Slowly, Greed pulls his arm back into his nest. "Once you grab it, it's done. Envy, Lust, Gluttony, Sloth, Pride, Wrath. They won't be able to track you, no matter how close they may get. And neither will I. Call it whatever you want, but you've now got the upper hand." The devil shifts, his low laughter forcing his self-made swill to expand and clap back against him like a rubberband. "Can't say I like it, but them's the breaks, isn't it? Ha - ! You are such a fucking pissant. Who'd have thought we'd be here, like this?"
He waves his hand to shoo away whatever it is that's on his mind. "I'm sure you've seen plenty. Still doesn't change anything I said." His raptor(ed) toe plucks itself from the concrete to retreat back again. "I'd rather you keep me as a handsome memory. Give me that, won't you?"
Footsteps far up above shake the ceiling a bit, making a few loose splinters tumble down, down, down. Greed slinks forward to inspect it. "Sounds like Bido's doing double time tonight. I'll make sure he gets your regards."
Because, as the angel said himself, they're on a time schedule. No doubt, Murmur will go on his own way once everything is said and done. Angels didn't belong in a place like this; least of all one who exposed himself, gave himself, and exhausted himself for a rotting palace of monsters and devils alike. Besides, Murmur is on the run and his consequences? They're a bit more dire than his, aren't they? And if the rumors are true -
Greed's quiet for a long while; too long. Until: "I've got enough left in me if you want a clean exit."
It certainly wasn't a ritzy establishment. All corrosion and decay, trash and treasures alike piled haphazardly alongside each other in the gluttonous belly of an insatiable beast. Still, even being aware he was very much surrounded by all things rot and corrosion, he was unbothered. Nothing seemed to trouble the angel, he had been through more than enough to know that for all the age this place carried it was only nature's rot that chewed it. Nothing here would tarnish his wings more than they already were. He'd aided the enemy, and not a single feather smoldered for his trouble.
At first he was going to refuse the offer, a ward that hid him only from Greed and his wouldn't be particularly useful, but to hide him from all the Sins? Well... how could he refuse such a gift? A powerful weapon in a war he'd planted himself firmly in the middle of, whether he liked it or not. All because he just couldn't stop himself from a little rebellion, a little chaos, and most of all... a little justice. Besides, this was a treat precisely up his alley. A sigil to hide him from sight? Exactly his wheelhouse. "Now, now, this hardly means you'll be rid of me," He mused, tone laced with amusement as he reached out to accept the offering. Greed might find it a risk, and it would be were he the type to double cross, but Murmur was most of all loyal.
He just didn't like to tell anyone that.
A breath of chilled air leaves him as the sigil takes hold, leaving him frozen for a moment while he works the thing into his own wards and sigils. Another layer of protection can never go astray. "I shall pretend I've not seen you at your worst, then," His tone quiet, though still amused. "Not that I find it particularly offensive." That's damn near a compliment from him, all things considered.
Once everything had settled and the strange moment had passed he shook himself out, feathers fluffing up as he did so.
"I think I'd rather have a cup of tea. That is, if you're not opposed to harboring a felon for a time?" It would give him a chance to make sure the wards were all firmly in place before any pursuers came their way. If everything worked out as planned, then this place was one of the safest from the holy host one could hope for.
A wheezing bark of a laugh shies out from the cloud, bringing with it all of his swill and dust. Of course, getting rid of Murmur couldn't be that easy. And would he really want it any other way? The Angel was a counterpoint of sorts; a kind of constant comfort that came strolling into his existence time and time again. Like a stray that wasn't a stray at all, or a playing beggar proving humanity's generosity. He was biblical test of sorts. And if that isn't the funniest fucking joke in the world.
With no need to hold up any sort of pretenses, he lets it all down. The ash falls; the cloud drops and scatters as quickly as rats in the drain. And in the center of it all? He's there. The living embodiment of avarice, twisted yet still similar enough that it couldn't be anyone else. The ring hovering about his head thorns itself with three, distinct spikes and while they circle each other in a haze of blackened and tarnished gold, the Sin's fanged mouth quirks.
"And here I thought it'd be easy to get rid of you. Proved me wrong again, handsome." Greed tilts his head, the weight of his horns half sagging him to the side. "You really are a pain in my ass, y'know that?" Where there had been vicious humor before, he's softer now. His defenses down and all of him out in the open, there's little to hide anymore. They've got all their cards out on the table: Murmur with his secrets, him with his.
And Lord, Lord, if this whole night isn't full of surprises.
The Sin's split eyes wander to the ceiling again and the lights throughout the basement immediately flick on to settle into their usual low dim. Greed pensively presses his tongue at the backsides of his elongated teeth. "When you put it that way, I'm sure we can work something out," he starts in and that smile of his speaks so much more volumes. It's sinister and slick; coy, yet thoughtful. Felony's just part of him, isn't it? And good friends, true friends, are always thicker than thieves.
Greed shifts, pockets his hands, and sinks comfortably into his shoulders. "I'll have to ask Roa about the tea. Not really my specialty." He waves sleepily at the air to usher away a few bits of soot. "As long as you don't mind being around them a bit longer, I can make something work. Can't promise some of 'em won't bother you through the night, though." The red lines carved into his face sweat gold only to fizzle out in the crooks and cracks of his horns.
"But I've got a spare room down the hall from mine. Third floor, convenient window, second best view in the place," Greed's feet shift while he walks. Talons first, bare feet next, then back to boots again. It will take a bit longer for the rest of him to settle, sure enough. However, the minor conveniences? Well, it's enough for now.
He saunters to the door frame and checks it. "Well shit, Bido does like you," he starts in with a whistle. Sure enough, the frame's been covered just as Murmur asked. As have every other possible entrance down in the basement.
"I'm sure he's waiting for you. Let's head up stairs and get you that drink."
Greed might not want to admit it, but if Murmur disappeared forever there would be a part of him that missed the feathery pain in his ass. Even if he does come and go as he damn well pleases and is absolutely not at all deferential. It would be weird if he were, would it not?
After giving himself a thorough shake to remove any stray soot from his feathers Murmur dismisses the wings unto wherever it is they hide when he's not showing off. The whole pack didn't need to know his secrets just yet, they still hadn't been tested. After ensuring his tattoos were back in hiding and he looked proper enough he'd turn to follow Greed back down the cluttered dim hallways. "I've told you to stop making assumptions about me, haven't I?" He chided, tone sing-song as he did, an amused lilt replacing his usual monotone. There was a reason he'd been so insistent, and that reason would persist despite Greed's best efforts. Blood angels were known to be unpredictable, and even cool-tempered Murmur was no exception.
"You would have me no other way."
It was just their dynamic. Greed needed someone to pull him out of trouble when he got in too deep, deeper than his cohorts could reach. In return he'd be frustrated and annoyed, because angels were just like that. Ever the light within the dark, for without one how could someone recognize the other? "I think it is more likely they who will be disturbed by my presence than the other way around." Demons didn't bother him, he'd met far more despicable beings than the lot Greed had drummed up. "Perhaps now that the imminent threat is tempered your pup will be calmer." Smarter? No, probably not, but perhaps less obnoxious.
He ponders the offered accommodations a moment. "Does the window open?" If so, it would be a very convenient perch. He could hop in and out at his leisure, no need for fancy hell gate doors. Trailing along behind, he also stops to inspect Bido's work, nodding in approval. He followed the directions well, that should buy them some time and give Murmur the breathing room to reinforce these wards with something a little more durable. "You think so? I simply assumed he was as interested in safeguarding his home as the rest." Offering a nod he pulls away from his inspection to return to following. Tea does sound lovely right about now.
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"The infernal are not exactly known for being particularly forgiving, no," There was a faint bit of wry humor in his tone at that. Slighting devils was never a particularly wise decision. No wonder Greed and his were skittish, though they should be far more worried about their own than Murmur. If he wanted to cause them trouble he would have simply left Greed to deal with the consequences of his carelessness. "Ah, don't be so cynical. You have thus far escaped their grasp, that is a change, subtle though it may be. Change is ever around us, one must simply learn how to observe it." Cheeky and sly as always, Murmur was happy to end the conversation there with their path forward illuminated by sickly light.
Appropriate, in a place like this. Where shadows and secrets dwelled far away from prying eyes. Little did Greed realize Murmur's were the most prying of them all. He just couldn't help himself, it was in his nature. "Nothing's free," He agrees, and in a way Greed was still racking up a bill. Rescued, babysat, his minions tolerated, and his headquarters hidden from sight? Murmur was doing a lot of work here he wouldn't do for just anyone. And now he was about to crack out the forbidden magic? Greed was going to owe him quite the debt indeed. He followed along those twists and turns, cramped corridors and low arches. This place really was sprawling, and with only one goat they'd have to be tactical with their work. Ideally Bido will understand the need once he explains the process further.
Ah, they did indeed pick him adequate space. Most excellent. "Exemplary work, Bido!" High praise from the angel, especially given some of that monotone of his actually shifted into something genuine. Now it was his time to shine. Murmur made his way toward the bucket, setting down the bowl of ash collected earlier nearby and standing again to begin rolling up his sleeves. This was perhaps the first hint that there was more to the angel than met the eye. While he went out of his way to appear as unimpressive in dress and visage as possible his arms were a different story.
Flowing intricate tattoos covered them, arcane symbols of all manner were woven in such dense intricacy it would take even the most seasoned scholar ages to begin to pick them apart. In the dim light the ink seemed to have an unearthly shimmer, sometimes silver, sometimes blood red when they caught the light just right. He motioned for Greed to approach. "Bleed the goat in there, every drop you possibly can. We'll need as much as we can get." The place really was far too large, after all. Once Greed moved to comply he'd begin his work, in equal parts he mixed in the dirt and ash, a pinch here and a handful there he worked the mixture with a paint stirrer he'd found along the way.
Working like this the icy countenance fell away, and a man possessed was revealed in his place. A mad scientist over his experiment, an expert alchemist and chemist both as he muttered incantations and wove his magic into the mixture. Nearing completion they required one final component, so rare as to be nigh impossible to extract... unless one happened to have the very source on hand. Gesturing for Greed to keep his distance Murmur straightened, great wings erupting from his back all at once and the reason for his insistence on space was clear - they were huge.
Easily twenty feet, if not more, from tip to tip with pale blue-gray feathers that glittered as if covered in a fine layer of frost. They were long and narrow like a gull, or more accurately like an albatross, a bird whose omens were all too fitting now in light of their present situation. The pristine feathers were unmarred save for a striking patch at each shoulder with mottled bloodstains marring the otherwise even coloration. The striking markings of a faction only known in whispers and conspiracies, Blood Angels. Greed wasn't the only one harboring secrets, after all.
Murmur was wholly consumed by his work, and unwilling to comment on anything about his wings. Delicately he searched through his feathers, one by one plucking out small ones to crumble into the mixture. As he did so it began to take on a shimmer not unlike the frosty sheen that adorned him. Either unaware or unwilling to acknowledge there might be questions from his witnesses, Murmur went on with his explanation. "Bido, when I am finished with this I will need you to paint a stripe of this above every window and door that opens to the outside of this building. You may have to be sparing, I know not how many exist. Are you able to complete this task?"
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The Sin's outline goes out of focus and in his silence, Bido frantically moves into position. "Y-Yes. Yes, Mr. Murmur! I - I can do that for you, don't .. don't even worry about it." The creature's small body, for a second, hesitates. Trapped between all the awe that is Murmur (his encompassing presence, how his wings fill up every inch of space they can take, the way his feathers are clean yet bitter and chill) and his boss who, by all other accounts, creeps on the outer ring like a coming eclipse, he's no match for the storm. This is beyond him, beyond any of them. It's old meeting of older friends, of enemies, of a word no mortal truly knows.
Bido's scampering hands grab the bucket and with a fresh paint brush at the ready, he shuffles briskly toward the door. As if any moment, this meeting of two, opposite currents could burst. Bringing them and the whole house down in a magnificent and beautiful explosion.
"Boss," Bido whispers at the doorframe leading out to the hallway. "Boss - ?"
The cloud where Greed had once been thunders red, orange. "I'm fine, Bido. Go on, do what our friend here says, would you?" The Sin's voice echoes somewhere far, yet oh so near. It drowns itself in the crackling cloud like lightning rumbling on the horizon; an electrified sound, hot and broiling. And maybe it's just because Murmur's being so honest, but something about it: the brooding is like an answer. A call to an echo long gone, hissing back:
"You rang?"
The hallway bulbs flutter, and Bido violently shocks himself back into the present, his saucer(ed) eyes blinking themselves out of a stupor. "R-Right! I'm on it! You can count on me, Mr. Murmur. Just," his nails tickle the handle of the bucket. "-please be careful." And with that, he's gone. Lost to the building's catacombs to begin his long, agonizing work.
"He's never seen something like you before. Gotta say, I'm impressed," Greed's voice creeps from behind Murmur despite their distance. "Sorry, didn't want either of you to see how ugly I could get. But whatever you're doing, well. Seemed only fair." Eyes open in the dark, pupils gone and blaring. They eat at the fumes of sulfur and smoke like flares - their heat burning through only to relight the smog yet again in a vicious cycle. The Sin exhales low through a mouth that sounds laborious. "Looks like both of us are just full of surprises tonight."
Snakes of soot clamber to the door where Bido had once been and strangle it. "I am sorry." His tone manages to be both snide and sincere. Another contradiction. "Once this is done, it's your choice. Whatever you want." Movement stirs inside his cocoon and the Sin finally moves, forcing part of the curtain to pull back and fray along his ankles.
His boots are gone now, replaced by crooked feet and talons best serving a lizard from millennia ago. A single, elongated toe raps softly against the concrete and as it centers itself, the claw at the tip gauges deep into the rock. Despite how stretching his swill seems to go, it appears to avoid Murmur and his work entirely. Instead, it lingers on the edges of all the goings-on; its presence, an audience of sorts. One hovering, keeping its distance, but itching on the edge of its seat.
Blood Angels. Princes of Hell. Oh, what a pair they make.
Greed's claw scratches something into the concrete; the symbol, a rough mess of sketches. "I'm a man of my word, handsome. You do us a favor, and I - " A chain rattles softly nearby and light swings in his shadow - its body swimming in a sea of black, blinding fog. "From mine. From me. Keep your secrets. I owe you that much."
Because he knows, at least he can guess, the cost. The cost of this, the cost of revealing. It's a hefty price to pay. And if he's blind to Murmur? If he can be jumped by him at any time?
So be it. Fair is fair, after all.
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He didn't say anything about the exchange between Bido and Greed, only cocked his head to the side in faint curiosity at Bido's words of warning. Offering a polite nod, he flicked his wings once, even that gentle force kicking up dust and ash all around them as he tucked them neatly against his back. For being so large, they did fold nicely. Now, with Bido scampering off to perform his duty he turned his attention to Greed, letting out a faint rueful huff of amusement. "I was there during the first war between Heaven and Hell, I have born witness to horrors far beyond you, Greed." He's hardly so delicate that he'd be intimidated by Greed going as smoldering as he possibly can.
Again his head tilts to the side, birdlike in its puzzlement while somehow still carrying the weight of eons. "Why are you apologizing? What are you offering? Be clear." As for the secrets, he nods curtly. "I will accept that much, at the very least. They may not take the news as well. But you understand there is more in Heaven, Hell, and Earth than black and white, do you not? You are among those who have forsaken one duty to carry the mantle of another.
The stray thought, for that was what it was, earned something of a light chuckle from the angel. A tinkling sound like crackling ice in the early rising sun, musical and alien all at the same time. "If I wanted to bring harm to you, then I simply would have let it happen." He's cheating but that's also what his kind does, isn't it? Stare into the heart of sin and remain untarnished? Listening to all those deepest darkest thoughts? This one, however, does not recoil. Bathed in blood, they are not so easily flustered.
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Greed's jaw cracks open. "A ward for a ward. Mine won't be able to find you, and neither will I. I'd say that's a fair deal." His hand appears out of the mess of soot, bringing with it trails and dust like fingers through a broken hourglass. With his claws splayed out and his hand gripping the air, he takes on the look of a shadow. Of a phantom appearing out of a fallout, offering an option.
The Sin violently snaps his wrist and the mark on the floor screams off the concrete in flecking embers and shrill noise. All the souls he's taken; all the souls he's marked. They answer to his call: in anguish, in need, in a desire to please. Greed rotates his hand to summon the symbol back up to his face. And as its red glow bleeds into his smoke screen, his eyes blare back. "This won't hurt you, but it might feel a bit weird. Hold still."
A flick of his arm later, and whatever he's conjured up ejects from his control. It slides across the room with screams, with laughter, with all the horror, all the bad, and all the good that he is. When it arrives to Murmur, it shrinks back down again. The electricity arching wildly about calms down to a static; the light dims down to small sparks and sputters.
Slowly, Greed pulls his arm back into his nest. "Once you grab it, it's done. Envy, Lust, Gluttony, Sloth, Pride, Wrath. They won't be able to track you, no matter how close they may get. And neither will I. Call it whatever you want, but you've now got the upper hand." The devil shifts, his low laughter forcing his self-made swill to expand and clap back against him like a rubberband. "Can't say I like it, but them's the breaks, isn't it? Ha - ! You are such a fucking pissant. Who'd have thought we'd be here, like this?"
He waves his hand to shoo away whatever it is that's on his mind. "I'm sure you've seen plenty. Still doesn't change anything I said." His raptor(ed) toe plucks itself from the concrete to retreat back again. "I'd rather you keep me as a handsome memory. Give me that, won't you?"
Footsteps far up above shake the ceiling a bit, making a few loose splinters tumble down, down, down. Greed slinks forward to inspect it. "Sounds like Bido's doing double time tonight. I'll make sure he gets your regards."
Because, as the angel said himself, they're on a time schedule. No doubt, Murmur will go on his own way once everything is said and done. Angels didn't belong in a place like this; least of all one who exposed himself, gave himself, and exhausted himself for a rotting palace of monsters and devils alike. Besides, Murmur is on the run and his consequences? They're a bit more dire than his, aren't they? And if the rumors are true -
Greed's quiet for a long while; too long. Until: "I've got enough left in me if you want a clean exit."
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At first he was going to refuse the offer, a ward that hid him only from Greed and his wouldn't be particularly useful, but to hide him from all the Sins? Well... how could he refuse such a gift? A powerful weapon in a war he'd planted himself firmly in the middle of, whether he liked it or not. All because he just couldn't stop himself from a little rebellion, a little chaos, and most of all... a little justice. Besides, this was a treat precisely up his alley. A sigil to hide him from sight? Exactly his wheelhouse. "Now, now, this hardly means you'll be rid of me," He mused, tone laced with amusement as he reached out to accept the offering. Greed might find it a risk, and it would be were he the type to double cross, but Murmur was most of all loyal.
He just didn't like to tell anyone that.
A breath of chilled air leaves him as the sigil takes hold, leaving him frozen for a moment while he works the thing into his own wards and sigils. Another layer of protection can never go astray. "I shall pretend I've not seen you at your worst, then," His tone quiet, though still amused. "Not that I find it particularly offensive." That's damn near a compliment from him, all things considered.
Once everything had settled and the strange moment had passed he shook himself out, feathers fluffing up as he did so.
"I think I'd rather have a cup of tea. That is, if you're not opposed to harboring a felon for a time?" It would give him a chance to make sure the wards were all firmly in place before any pursuers came their way. If everything worked out as planned, then this place was one of the safest from the holy host one could hope for.
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With no need to hold up any sort of pretenses, he lets it all down. The ash falls; the cloud drops and scatters as quickly as rats in the drain. And in the center of it all? He's there. The living embodiment of avarice, twisted yet still similar enough that it couldn't be anyone else. The ring hovering about his head thorns itself with three, distinct spikes and while they circle each other in a haze of blackened and tarnished gold, the Sin's fanged mouth quirks.
"And here I thought it'd be easy to get rid of you. Proved me wrong again, handsome." Greed tilts his head, the weight of his horns half sagging him to the side. "You really are a pain in my ass, y'know that?" Where there had been vicious humor before, he's softer now. His defenses down and all of him out in the open, there's little to hide anymore. They've got all their cards out on the table: Murmur with his secrets, him with his.
And Lord, Lord, if this whole night isn't full of surprises.
The Sin's split eyes wander to the ceiling again and the lights throughout the basement immediately flick on to settle into their usual low dim. Greed pensively presses his tongue at the backsides of his elongated teeth. "When you put it that way, I'm sure we can work something out," he starts in and that smile of his speaks so much more volumes. It's sinister and slick; coy, yet thoughtful. Felony's just part of him, isn't it? And good friends, true friends, are always thicker than thieves.
Greed shifts, pockets his hands, and sinks comfortably into his shoulders. "I'll have to ask Roa about the tea. Not really my specialty." He waves sleepily at the air to usher away a few bits of soot. "As long as you don't mind being around them a bit longer, I can make something work. Can't promise some of 'em won't bother you through the night, though." The red lines carved into his face sweat gold only to fizzle out in the crooks and cracks of his horns.
"But I've got a spare room down the hall from mine. Third floor, convenient window, second best view in the place," Greed's feet shift while he walks. Talons first, bare feet next, then back to boots again. It will take a bit longer for the rest of him to settle, sure enough. However, the minor conveniences? Well, it's enough for now.
He saunters to the door frame and checks it. "Well shit, Bido does like you," he starts in with a whistle. Sure enough, the frame's been covered just as Murmur asked. As have every other possible entrance down in the basement.
"I'm sure he's waiting for you. Let's head up stairs and get you that drink."
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After giving himself a thorough shake to remove any stray soot from his feathers Murmur dismisses the wings unto wherever it is they hide when he's not showing off. The whole pack didn't need to know his secrets just yet, they still hadn't been tested. After ensuring his tattoos were back in hiding and he looked proper enough he'd turn to follow Greed back down the cluttered dim hallways. "I've told you to stop making assumptions about me, haven't I?" He chided, tone sing-song as he did, an amused lilt replacing his usual monotone. There was a reason he'd been so insistent, and that reason would persist despite Greed's best efforts. Blood angels were known to be unpredictable, and even cool-tempered Murmur was no exception.
"You would have me no other way."
It was just their dynamic. Greed needed someone to pull him out of trouble when he got in too deep, deeper than his cohorts could reach. In return he'd be frustrated and annoyed, because angels were just like that. Ever the light within the dark, for without one how could someone recognize the other? "I think it is more likely they who will be disturbed by my presence than the other way around." Demons didn't bother him, he'd met far more despicable beings than the lot Greed had drummed up. "Perhaps now that the imminent threat is tempered your pup will be calmer." Smarter? No, probably not, but perhaps less obnoxious.
He ponders the offered accommodations a moment. "Does the window open?" If so, it would be a very convenient perch. He could hop in and out at his leisure, no need for fancy hell gate doors. Trailing along behind, he also stops to inspect Bido's work, nodding in approval. He followed the directions well, that should buy them some time and give Murmur the breathing room to reinforce these wards with something a little more durable. "You think so? I simply assumed he was as interested in safeguarding his home as the rest." Offering a nod he pulls away from his inspection to return to following. Tea does sound lovely right about now.