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blood and whiny jesters
[Shiiiiiiit.
Shitshitfuckshit. Shit and then double fuck, and FUCK AGAIN.
How has this happened? This bullshit is why he never comes to the living world; he's a performer, an entertainer, not an action hero! Why did he ever let Blitzø talk him into coming to observe him at work, just so the asshole could show off?
"It's just one job, Fizz. You'll be nowhere near the guns and blood, Fizz. It's totally safe and I'll have you back to your big royal chicken in one piece, Fizz. Don't you want to see the living world at least once in your life, Fizz?"
He is going to punch that dickhead SO HARD when he gets home. Because it will be when, right? Not if. And then he will never ever set foot outside the Lust Ring again, let alone outside of Hell.
It had all happened in a flash of white hot pain and the smell of magic gone wrong, the pages of the Prince's tome fluttering and the spell going awry at the last moment. Instead of a nice safe portal opening from the offices of I.M.P. into whatever part of the living world Blitzø's contract was in, Fizz found himself tumbling through a nauseating vortex of images and sounds that make no sense.
And when it stops things don't get less confusing.
The light is fucking dim, and all he can see is stone before he has to fall to his knees and retch from the sensation of whatever the shit had gone wrong. Urgh. Shakily, he wipes a hand over the back of his mouth, unaware that he's crash-landed straight in front of someone like the weirdest multicoloured unwanted houseguest.]
...Blitzø? Fuck.
[His voice is harsh and raspy, as if he smokes about eighty a day, the bells on his hat jingling when he shifts a bit to try and look around.]
Shitshitfuckshit. Shit and then double fuck, and FUCK AGAIN.
How has this happened? This bullshit is why he never comes to the living world; he's a performer, an entertainer, not an action hero! Why did he ever let Blitzø talk him into coming to observe him at work, just so the asshole could show off?
"It's just one job, Fizz. You'll be nowhere near the guns and blood, Fizz. It's totally safe and I'll have you back to your big royal chicken in one piece, Fizz. Don't you want to see the living world at least once in your life, Fizz?"
He is going to punch that dickhead SO HARD when he gets home. Because it will be when, right? Not if. And then he will never ever set foot outside the Lust Ring again, let alone outside of Hell.
It had all happened in a flash of white hot pain and the smell of magic gone wrong, the pages of the Prince's tome fluttering and the spell going awry at the last moment. Instead of a nice safe portal opening from the offices of I.M.P. into whatever part of the living world Blitzø's contract was in, Fizz found himself tumbling through a nauseating vortex of images and sounds that make no sense.
And when it stops things don't get less confusing.
The light is fucking dim, and all he can see is stone before he has to fall to his knees and retch from the sensation of whatever the shit had gone wrong. Urgh. Shakily, he wipes a hand over the back of his mouth, unaware that he's crash-landed straight in front of someone like the weirdest multicoloured unwanted houseguest.]
...Blitzø? Fuck.
[His voice is harsh and raspy, as if he smokes about eighty a day, the bells on his hat jingling when he shifts a bit to try and look around.]
no subject
He's just an imp, and a pretty damaged one at that. He's got no magical ability, he's got no idea how the portals open other than it's something to do with the inherent ability of royal demons, and he has no influence over Hell. But then, he also has bionic arms and legs, a cell phone, and a variety of... interesting... things in his pockets.]
And you can't avoid conflict somewhere less creepy?
[He holds his hands up to show it was a joke. Sort of.]
I'd rather not involve you in something that means you have to fight anyone either, especially not on my account. Maybe-- maybe if you told me how to contact these sorceresses, I could do it without them ever having to know you were involved?
[There's something that tickles at the back of his head about Regis' phrasing and tone, but he doesn't quite put it together yet. It'll sit in his mind along with the way Regis had crouched in front of him without fear of being in the vulnerable position, and his general calm demeanour, and sooner or later he'll put it together that higher vampires are much scarier than he's imagining them to be.]
no subject
It's quite alright. Conveniently, we higher vampires are impervious to magical detection, which makes it very easy for me to hide, if need be. And I expect that most sorceresses would avoid a fight with one of my kind.
In short, we shall try to keep things very civil. And I shall try to keep a bribe handy.
[ He laughs, because he knows that that sounds kind of ridiculous. But it works, more often than not, so he meanders over from his books to his cabinet of strange-looking potions, sifting through them for anything that a sorceress would find useful to have. ]
Things to think about in the morning. A bit of rest would do you good, I think.
no subject
Unless that sorceress was really into butt plugs and juggling clubs.]
...uh, another possibly cliché question, but don't you need it to be night for us to move around without burning up?
[Not that he'd say no to some rest after the whirlwind shitshow of today, but he can become nocturnal if that's what's needed.]
And a less cliché question, but if we're sleeping in this place then... bathroom? Please tell me you have a bathroom.
i thought i replied to this weeks ago and i hadNT HIT SEND
Anyway. He stops rummaging at the question, and looks over his shoulder. If he looks slightly perturbed,
well. ]
The good news is that I've made friends with the sun, and can roam outside freely at all times of the day.
The bad news is that... hm. What you see here is, unfortunately, what you get.
[ Welcome to fantasy Medieval Europe, where running water is a luxury. Not to mention that crypts aren't known for having amenities, as its occupants are usually very, very dead.
Apologetically: ] Clearly, I valued privacy over hospitality when I chose where to hide.
MY TURN TO CURSE DW FOR EATING A TAG ):
[He repeats himself even though he understood what Regis was telling him perfectly well. The crypt, of which he's already fully examined by leaping around all over the place earlier, is everything there is. No bathroom. No toilet. No bath.]
Fuck, that might actually be the most heartbreaking thing you've told me so far. I thought I was going to miss Oz the most, but that's before I knew you didn't have a jacuzzi lined up for me.
[He's making a joke of it, but truthfully he is kind of worried. A hot bath with jets helps tight muscles and chronic pain, and it's not like he has any medication here to help. Fuck it, it's fine, he can power through.]
So, what? I've got to go piss among the gravestones? Any enemies up there you want me to aim for?
no subject
"Damn, bitch, you live like this?" would be a good meme to describe Regis' self-imposed isolation. Then again, Regis, even with his centuries of knowledge based in this reality, can't imagine the conveniences of more advanced societies. ]
Hm. Wild wolves, and the occasional wraiths.
[ Not comforting! At least he's honest. Regis still looks contrite, however, and rubs his palms together in a way that looks almost like a sheepish raccoon. Graceful, but still apologetic. ]
We should expedite your glamouring exploits. There are far better accommodations in Beauclair proper― ah, how mortifying that I've been caught so unprepared.
[ A small smile, brows downturned. ]
no subject
[He snorts a wheezy and rasping little laugh, because he can't imagine anyone who could have been more hospitable. It's not about running water and bathroom amenities (though fuck knows he wants those very much), but about the grace and kindness with which he's been treated so far.]
But yeah, a disguise as fast as possible sounds like a good first step. I don't have any of your money-- uh, fuck, obviously-- but if I have anything worth selling to help with whatever helping me out is going to cost then it's yours.
[Stretching, wincing again at the sharp stab from his shoulder where he had landed on it when he arrived, he heads for the stairs up and out of the underground dwelling.]
I'll be careful not to be seen, back in a few.