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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.]
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You don't have cell phones in the living world?
[Huh? He had no idea that sort of technology was Hell-specific, but he knows so very little about the differences between the two places. It's not like he had a formal education, unless it was in juggling and other objectively cool skills like that.]
I mean, uh-- yeah, it's a communicator. It can do long distance voice, picture, or text conversations. See?
[He pulls up his latest texts from Blitzø and holds the phone out.]
[Fizz can't help but look a bit guilty at those last messages, shoulders hunching slightly.]
Guess he realised something went wrong, but I can't reply. So...
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Anyway. Fizz is stuck with just Regis for now, unless at some point Geralt decides to come NPC for Regis' adventures for once; the vampire in question takes a glance at the screen and the back-and-forth, and
thinks that maybe Fizz's friend isn't, uh. The smartest person in Hell. A snap judgment is made here, about Fizz's good heart and dishing it out to people who might be careless with it.
Regis keeps it to himself. This is all a lot to take in. ]
It does seem that you're very much missed. It might be that all that needs doing is keeping you safe and hidden until your companion figures out how to reverse the process that brought you here.
[ Gently, hovering beside Fizzarolli like a well-meaning ghost. ]
You didn't intend for this to happen, this much is clear. You're blameless.
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Or... guess he was.
But hearing that reassurance come from this outside source is oddly comforting, it adds another layer to the probability he won't be attacked for this. It's another kindness, one of several that are already stacking up.]
...yeah, thanks.
[It's a soft and slightly awkward response, accompanied by a smile that's much more genuine than the performer's mask he has been trying to hold onto after the initial panic abated.]
I don't know how much help I'm going to be on any of those counts, if I'm being honest. I'm not a fighter to keep myself safe, I'm a performer, and I've never even been to the living world before. I don't know how to fit in, even if I had a disguise. You've been-- really fucking kind so far, but letting me stick around is probably going to be a real pain in your ass.
[That doesn't stop the small flare of hope that he might be allowed to stick around all the same, rather than have to find a way to survive here alone.]
You sure you want that hassle, Regis?
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Right now, he pulls up a chair. Sits, and listens. Still calm as anything, but with the barest lowering of his brows to indicate sympathy. The expression is involuntary, but honest. ]
Thank you for the warning, however unnecessary it may be.
[ One day, he'll tell Geralt that honesty is a virtue that only the bravest possess; perhaps he'll think of Fizzarolli when he says so. ]
It requires courage to bare yourself as you've done, even to your own detriment. I'm certain it will be no trouble at all to be in the company of someone with such integrity.
[ A soft laugh, followed by a low, thoughtful hum. ]
There's another reason why I think this arrangement won't be a hassle at all. I believe it's something I should tell you in advance, since you've been so forthright with me.
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He's not entirely sure that spouting off about his own ineptitude regarding combat and the living world is brave-- it sure might be stupid-- and he doesn't think anyone has ever referred to him as someone of integrity. It nearly makes him laugh, but he restrains himself to a small twitch of his lips, far more focused on that fact that Regis is agreeing to help him.
Relief.
Relief is so strong that is nearly knocks him off his feet, and it's quickly followed by a gratitude that he opens his mouth to express, but is forestalled in doing so by that rather cryptic finisher.]
Yeah?
[He's all ears.
Not exactly wary or afraid, but definitely curious as to what sort of information could make this less of a hassle for Regis to have to deal with.]
Unless you're about to tell me that you're an expert at making portals, not sure how I won't be a hassle to you. But go on, I'm listening.
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He turns in his chair, folded knees facing Fizzarolli. One hand lifts from resting position, fingers splayed. ]
It's the nature of my identity. [ Cryptic. Holding his hand to candlelight, he gives his companion a better look at its shape, innocuous save for the slightly-overlong nails; a strange demonstration, its intent unclear, until－
－the nails elongate in a whip-crack instant, too long and too sharp, curled like foot-long scimitars. The transition is quick, but slightly grotesque; the kind of wrongness that feels starkly at odds with how normal Regis seems at first glance.
He smiles about the anomaly, though, and flexes his unnatural fingers. ] I'm not human at all, you see.
[ As if he's speaking about the weather. ] Are there higher vampires in hell?
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Okay, it's a hand?
He has no idea what's really going on, wondering if there's some kind of hidden riddle to this, when suddenly the situation becomes a lot less hidden riddle and a lot more terrifying answer. It's a display that he's not expecting even in the slightest, and the only reason he hasn't moved to run or defend himself, is the fact he was warned something was going to happen which means this isn't an attack. Probably.
His eyes are still wide and wary when he raises them from that hand to Regis' face, shaking his head to the sound of tinkling bells.]
Higher vampire?
[Fizz repeats the words a little numbly. An insane part of his mind wants to laugh and quote one of the dumb vampire movies that often show in between Hell-a-novella marathons. I vant to suck your bluuuuuuuud. It's... nonsense. Vampires aren't real.
But those fingernails-- claws?-- sure are real. And why wouldn't vampires be real? Regis has accepted the fact a Hellborn creature from another place has manifested through a portal, that's... Fuck. Fuck. A vampire? A higher vampire, whatever the shit that's supposed to mean?
It's only when he catches the sound of himself swallowing hard that he realises he's been quiet a bit too long, caught in his confused whirlwind of thoughts.]
Uh-- no. We don't have vampires of any kind, I didn't even know they were real outside of stories.
[His eyes dart towards the doorway, then back to Regis again.]
Is this a world of vampires?
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After that's done (and after he tidies himself up again, nails retracted and fingers curled somewhat demurely around the strap of his satchel): ] Oh no, not at all. We're permanent visitors, as were humans before they decided to reproduce more rapidly than any other creature on this world anticipated.
[ A statement that probably raises more questions than it answers. Regis brushes it aside, eyes crinkling around their corners with gentle humor. ]
In short, I'm a novelty. Even among my own kind, if I may add. My previous promise that I mean you no harm still holds, and I would have kept this from you for your peace of mind, had you not been so graceful with your honesty.
[ He waits a beat. As light as his tone remains, he understands how serious this all is. ]
Does this change things?
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He still doesn't really know what to think about this.
It's a big revelation, but exactly how big is lost on him because he doesn't come from a world where higher vampires exist, or even where humans are the majority population. He has no idea what's even true about the myths, if anything, but it seems sort of rude and insensitive to ask if he should be careful of leaving his neck exposed or not eat any garlic.]
It makes me less confused about why you're living in a fucking cemetery.
[Should it change things?
Regis still promised him no harm would come to him, and that he would help Fizz both survive here and get home, why would his species change anything? Except perhaps to give them a commonality of not being human in a world made for humans?]
I guess it just means we both get to learn about a new species.
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So he actually laughs at the jab about living in a cemetery, because of course. It's the one aspect of his current situation that plays to every vampire trope out there, and the amused slant of his brows says well played. ]
Very much so. Perhaps we could trade fun facts about ourselves over a drink－ or a meal, if you're feeling peckish.
[ A beat, and a hum. ]
Ah, but I wouldn't want to assume. Do creatures from Hell still require physical sustenance? It would be good for me to know if you have...
[ How to phrase this without sounding patronizing??? Regis waves a hand, almost as if the gesture is a disclaimer. ]
...Special needs.
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[Is that rude of him to say? Maybe, but he can't think of a better way to phrase it. He doesn't look afraid of the idea, or of Regis, because he figures if the plan all along was to chomp on his throat then this whole pantomime to make him feel safer seems a whole lot of effort for nothing.]
Because no. But I'd worship you forever if you had any coffee. Or burgers. Shit, anything would do, I'm really hungry.
[He smiles, and it's at least half genuine.]
Do you have stuff like that? I mean-- vampires have 'special needs' right?
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He doesn't touch on his drinking yet. Instead, he chooses to concentrate focus on the subject of Fizzarolli's hunger, which...
...hm, he should do something about. Hard to invite guests over to eat and drink when vampires don't strictly require either. Back up and onto his feet, he moves towards a portion of the crypt that looks more like a cellar, tapping the strap of his satchel thoughtfully. ]
We're quire low-maintenance, truth be told. We've no need for most things that humans require, eating and drinking included.
[ There are a few baskets in the small alcove, covered with clean cloth. Peeling back one covering reveals cheeses, a bottle of unopened wine, dried fruits and bread. ] We don't even require blood if push comes to shove. I suppose we vampires differ from you greatly, in that sense.
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So what is it?
Something about drinking blood, but what? Is it a taboo to have asked? Offensive, maybe? Or does Regis think that Fizz is being insulting by insinuating he might end up as dinner for a hungry vampire?]
...hey, uh. [Ignoring the offered food for now, even if his stomach growls at the scent of cheese, he tentatively reaches out a hand to try and rest lightly on Regis' arm. His hand is cool to the touch even through clothing, a hard and unyielding black metal.] Sorry. Didn't mean to spout some ignorant bullshit. Was it racist of me to assume you did that?
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－Gods, it really is just the most charming thing. Here, in this world, where humans have killed elves for trifles and hung halflings for the crime of being short-statured. Here, in this world, where witchers are called mutants for slaughtering monsters that simply deigned to exist near so-called civilization.
Fizzarolli, who is someone from literal Hell, has the decency to apologize for saying something that could be construed as ignorant. Regis turns, looks over his shoulder with cheese in hand, and laughs brightly. ]
Someone with courage, integrity, and nobility. [ Without patronization. His smile is sincere but tight-lipped so as not to show teeth, a habit he's picked up over hundreds of years. ] Hell must be a wonderful place, with you in it.
[ Another light chuckle, and he shakes his head. ] No, you haven't offended at all. Many vampires do drink, to varying degrees of indulgence and violence. I simply chose not to, out of circumstance and principle. [ The last bit is a bit solemn, but it doesn't quite hit "sad". ] At any rate, I find rumors about vampires quite funny. You've no need to worry about my feelings on the matter.
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On the other hand... what the fuck does he do with a compliment like that?
He's used to compliments, he has adoring fans in every Ring of Hell and his might be the most famous face down there. But his compliments are usually along the lines of how awesome his tricks are, or how much they would like to fuck him, or how well the Fizzies do fuck them. Not... nobility, courage, and integrity.
Fizz flushes and reaches over Regis' shoulder to take a hunk of cheese to shove in his mouth to have something to do, his cheeks hamster full when he answers. Why does he choose to launch into his performer's sales pitch? He doesn't even know himself, it's just what comes out.]
R-Right, that's me, the famous Fizzarolli... making Hell a wonderful place to be at all my shows. Nightly at Ozzie's, and touring regularly under Mammon. And if that's not enough, you can always buy a Fizzie~!
[Shut up, Fizz. He tails off awkwardly, giving a hoarse and uncomfortable chuckle.]
Uh-- or not, sorry. Habit.
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－or, so Regis assumes. It's not like he can claim to know, but there's something a bit jarring about the sudden tonal shift that Fizzarolli takes, not dissimilar to how Geralt would always deflect discussions about the quality of his character by saying that his witcher mutations made him impossible to be cared for.
This time, the expression on Regis' face does read as slightly sad. More so than when he shared his drinking habits, or lack thereof. He reciprocates that touch that Fizzarolli gave him earlier over his clothes, his fingers resting carefully on what feels to be cold metal. ]
It's quite alright. [ Memories surface of companions lost to time, ages ago. ] Though I meant what I said without knowledge of your fame or your reputation.
[ "Or the fact that you've sold yourself", feels too intrusive. His hand remains near where he approximates Fizz's wrist would be. ]
Are you a bard?
try not to judge me
Funny.
The insistence on reiterating the compliment makes his skin itch a little, the discomfort growing. He can almost hear Ozzie's voice in his head: Froggie, it's okay to let people see the real you. Well... shut up, Big Daddy.]
A bard?
[That, at least, is a question he can answer.]
Fuck no, I'm a jester. I'm a clown. I'm Fizza-fucking-rolli.
[Suddenly, he wants to be moving, to be proving he's still himself even in a cemetery of an insane new world. He grabs another mouthful of cheese, and then music seems to come from nowhere. Not that Fizz is surprised by it-- this is the gift that Lilith gave to Hell, songs and music, and it's a gift that Fizz has honed well over his years.
As the introductory music builds, Fizz zips back from Regis and extends to stand on top of one of the sarcophaguses, spreading his arms wide and bowing. And then he's off, singing in his raspy voice as he performs, graceful in his acrobatics and utilising what few props and juggling balls he has concealed on him.]
🎵The best of all the jesters
In all the seven Rings
It's the famous Fizzarolli
Fuckin' funny... and he sings
I'm flexible, just ask Ozzie
A master of spinning fire
Blindfolded knives, a thing of ease
I can dance on the high wire
My juggling is an art form
On the trapeze I am bespoke
Pies and balloons, easy for me
And I'll always finish with a joke
So keep your eyes fixed on me
Because I'm the best in all the biz
You'll want to fuck me, cheer me, love me
The one and only Fizz!🎵
[He finishes in the same place he started, bowing once more as the music dies away, grinning at Regis as if he's done nothing out of the commonplace.]
A bard, please.
LISTEN i love this!!!!!
He watches, rapt in a way that disarms himself, and heaves another laugh from the pit of his nonexistent stomach. It's a shame when Fizzarolli finishes, even if Regis thinks that certain bards would take umbrage at the crassness of some of the sung lyrics.
But then again, Fizzarolli said it himself: he's a jester, not a bard.
Regis is still bending his brain around the newness of this all, the novelty of it, as he claps for the performance. Sincere and surprised, which shows in his slightly-widened eyes. ]
Extraordinary－ my word, you really are quite the talent.
[ With apologies to Dandelion, who has definitely found his match. Regis stops clapping, but reluctantly. ]
It seems we'll have to expedite our search to send you back to Hell. There's no doubt you're sorely missed.
too kind <3 writing songs is HARD
So to feel Regis' genuine enjoyment of his performance fuels him, and the sincere pleasure of the moment is practically palpable, radiating from Fizz and informing every movement and inflection in the song. His smile is genuine, bright and delighted, at the compliments afterwards.]
Thank you so much, you're too kind. Now I can add higher vampires as fans to my list of accolades, huh? Pretty cool!
[He's mostly joking, slinking back over to the basket of food to take some more cheese.]
So-- you wanted to play a game of question and answer while we eat? Or I eat? Sounds like a good idea to me, the more we learn about each others species and worlds, the easier this shit will be.
[Performing has clearly loosened him up and pushed away reservations and anxieties, at least for now, his tail wagging slow and happy behind him.]
You want to go first, since I'm the intruder here?
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Anyway! That's a lot of philosophizing about a hell jester. Regis makes room for Fizz to perch on a slab of rock next to him if he'd like, and sets the basket and wine on top of two stacks of very thick, leather-bound books. ]
I prefer "visitor", [ he gently corrects. ] But, hm. Yes, I shall start if you've no objections.
[ No move to eat or drink on his end, though his dark eyes occasionally flit to the bottle. Abstaining has become harder and harder after his so-called "rebirth"; maybe it's Dettlaff's restless blood that compels him. ]
It's a widely regarded belief in this world that hell is where the souls of sinners go after they expire. This belief, in my opinion, serves two purposes: one, to discourage bad behavior and uphold an admittedly fragile moral order, and two, to give credence to the opposing idea of heaven.
[ Tl;dr- "I always thought heaven and hell were kinda bullshit, tbh." ]
I wonder how much this aligns with your reality.
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Maybe he'll ask on his turn.
For now he gives his attention to the question asked to him, and thankfully it's an easy one to answer.]
Yeah, that's exactly right. Once living humans die, their souls either go to Heaven or Hell depending on if they were a good person or not. Sinners are pretty powerful, and they can be unpredictable and dangerous, since they sort of-- exist in a different way to natural Hellborn creatures.
[That's a bit more of a complicated discussion, though, involving the Rings and the hierarchy, and-- well, time to go into that later.
Taking a small sip of wine, he contemplates what question he'd like to ask first in return.]
You know, it's really surreal to me that some people don't believe in Hell. The way you asked, it kind of sounded like maybe that includes you, so-- what did you think happened after people died?
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Thoughtful, Regis settles down and leans back. Long fingers drum across his knees, considering. ]
After one dies? Nothing at all. I'd always believed that legends and stories take the place of a tangible afterlife－ that we'd be kept alive by the virtue of historians and orators, not heaven or hell.
[ Bluntly, but without malice. "I never believed in your reality" is not a nice thing to say (he's been on the receiving end of this claim many, many times), but Regis means it as delicately as he can manage. He sympathizes, after all. ]
I've experienced death. Or something close to it, I suppose. There was never a crossing over, or a weighing of my actions to determine which end of the spectrum was more suitable for my soul.
[ A solemn, half-smile. ] It wasn't much of anything, truly. Which is why I didn't give the existence of Hell much thought.
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A flicker of empathy crosses Fizz's face when Regis shares about his near death experience-- no details, but he understands that. He knows that sometimes even speaking the bare minimum of it into existence can bring back the pain of it, and anything further gets caught in an unwilling throat.]
I'm glad you survived.
[The words are soft, but genuine.
He doesn't say I'm sorry. He's learned to hate that phrase himself, everyone was always so fucking sorry for what he lost, but no apologies could ever bring shit back. And worse, it always drove home there was something to be sorry for, that he was broken now.
Everyone was always sorry, nobody was ever glad that despite it all he lived.]
Not sure whether a vampire would end up in Heaven or Hell, but either way I'm glad you fought through it and you're here for me to have met you. I'd have been a lot more fucked without your kindness-- I can tell that already, and I haven't even been here a day.
[His smile gets a bit wider.]
But if you ever do end up in Hell, I'll be sure to visit Pride and say hi.
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His solemnity eases; the smile becomes just a smile, and becomes a half-grin by the time Fizz finishes. ]
Pride. [ A little huff, caught off-guard. ] I'll neither confirm nor deny that well-placed accusation.
[ Don't call him out like this!!!!!!!! jk though, because it's funny. Fizz has proven himself to be a capable jester 50 times over in the span of such a short amount of time, how impressive. ]
...Thank you, at any rate. It does remain an unfortunate truth that humans in this particular world tend towards xenophobia, but I shan't sour your experience of the surface before it's even begun. [ He'll have to go out tomorrow into the city for things like, you know, food and common amenities－ things to keep a guest comfortable, which are things he does not possess right now. He's not sure if he can leave Fizz alone in the crypt during that time, so he'll have to think on it.
In the meantime: ] Now, a question from you.
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Fizz is pretty sure he can handle that, it's not like the folks here are going to know to call him a fire toad or anything. But what he's getting from this is that he definitely needs to try and find a way to blend in, and that he probably shouldn't be shouting about Regis being a vampire when they're in mixed company.
There are so many questions he wants to ask now it's his turn; some of them far more serious than others, and some of them much more personal. He's not sure whether to start with this world, like Regis did regarding Hell, or whether to start with his new vampire friend.
In the end, he goes with his gut, even if it might not be the most relevant question.]
Do you want to play Gwent?...I noticed you keep looking at the bottle of wine, is it going to be an issue if I eat and drink in front of you? I guess-- do you miss it from when you were alive? Or-- human?
[Vampires all used to be humans, right?]
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i thought i replied to this weeks ago and i hadNT HIT SEND
MY TURN TO CURSE DW FOR EATING A TAG ):
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