divinetree | Coming Home from a Dream

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hellverse

Coming Home from a Dream

Hell has a habit of sucking in hapless, tortured souls... including those from other worlds, it seems, when helped along by portalling magic concocted by Stolas of the Ars Goetia. Hell, in fact, is very receptive to the devised spell, sucking in those that portal from the land of dreams, songerein.

Residents of hell walking through the portal find themselves startled awake where they were, but newcomers? Their forms become physical, tangible, changing them into the creatures they dream themselves to be - for the best and most certainly for the monstrous. It is Hell, after all.

Welcome home, I.M.P. : D.M.C.!

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Sometimes Loona was her own worst enemy.

4:27 wasn't the latest Loona ever arrived to the office, but if she cared about it she didn't show it. The door to the office burst open with her foot still raised from the kick she'd used to open it, before the hellhound would slump like a puppet dragged along the floor. Loona didn't even dare look up to see what level of batshittery Blitzø and the rest of the three-ring-circus had in store for her today.

No, Loona just kept her head down and kept walking, counting on sheer luck or happenstance to ensure she didn't get hit by Mox with a crossbow or crushed by a client and their overenthusiastic entrance.

As she slid into her seat, tail dragging along behind her, the hellhound slumped and thanked whatever small mercy Satan was dangling today that she made it just this far. "Fuck me..."

Although, maybe that was part of the problem, the hellhound donning shades and rubbing her temples. Last night had been a full on rager, but the party was nothing compared to everything afterward.

"No idea what the fuck some dickshit tried to spike the drinks with..." she mumbled, blindly groping behind her desk drawers, rattling empty bottles with each one until she finally grabbed a bottle of vodka that wasn't empty, downing it with a gusto before letting out a greatful belch, "...but dogdamn I need to get some more of that shit..."

It still felt fuzzy, but there was definite traces there in her head of everything she had been through... all the strange twee coziness, all the villagers she'd pissed off and aggravated, all those faces... but it wasn't like a normal dream, where you forgot details as you went. No, she actually was remembering more of it as she thought...

Although maybe that could wait for later, as she kicked the table, causing the little triangular sign-thing-plate on the desk to bounce and clatter back to the counter to display 'OPEN'.

Welp, whatever today had for her, it would have to do a lot to top the last night anyhow.

Dante overheard the hungover hellhound and immediately knew he had to say hey. Probably shouldn't go with the big surprise approach; he's pretty sure Loona doesn't like those on a good day. Best to keep it simple, then.

Stepping out of Blitzø's office like it's no thing, Dante opted to simply stand there, give a bit of a stretch, ruffle his hair with his newfound claws and offer her a smirk. He's notably more dragon now, with the recognizable trademarks still there.

"About time we got you something better than mead."

If Loona noticed Dragonte there, she certainly made no effort to register it, instead the hellhound pulled out a sleazy looking magazine - enticingly titled 'LIVES OF THE SICK AND FAMOUS' which prominently displayed an all but nude siren-like demon of some form of twisted go-go cage offering a middle finger to the reader and by extension, doing so for Loona - and draping it over her face as she lay back and got comfy.

"Neh..." the hellhound drowzily replied finally, slightly muffled by the magazine, "Shit you had in the skull wasn't half damn bad-"

There was a sudden flailing of hands and the threat of the chair tipping over before Loona pushed herself quickly upright, the magazine falling off to show her wide eyed expression slowly moving to view this new decidedly-draconic Dante.

Memories were flooding back in for her dream and she could only stare in disbelief, she could see him, she could smell him... if this was a hallucination it was pretty damn good.

"...Dante?" She finally asked with all the intellect that could possibly be indicated by the single word question, not knowing where else to start.

There's a look of amusement as the realization suddenly hits her, transitioning to a more genuine smile once he had her attention.

"Hey, Loona. Been a while. For me, at least."

Dante's tempted to request a hug, but Loona's not one for that kind of contact and that's okay. Hell, he didn't start caring for that until staying in the dream for this long.

"Stolas figured out a spell to get us home and bring us along. Magic shit I don't fully get, but it works. You been alright?"

LOONA. Loona!! Blitzø was immediately at her desk, containing himself just barely from hugging her and instead clinging to the side of the desk and giving her exceptionally pathetic puppy eyes.

"Loonie! You didn't answer my text. Are you okay, sweetie? Fuck, I missed you!" And that would've sounded absolutely crazy, if song weren't a thing. Nonetheless, Blitzø was happily swishing his tail, purring up a storm. "Can I getcha anything? Some water, a sandwich, a coffee? Anything for my baby."

There was someone somewhere who had a meter of some kind that was made to monitor the levels of adrenaline and cortisol in the adult brain. Blitzø probably didn't need it just by looking at the hellhound's face as every word seemed to tick that theoretical meter up bit by bit toward dangerous numbers.

Barely in the door and Blitzø was already crowding her with the mollycoddling shit?

Hackles began to rise, with Loona raising her head and inching it with the same level of speed reserved for horror movies where the ventriloquist dummy waits for the teenager to turn around before rotating its head 180 degrees in slow motion.

Finally when Loona had locked now-dilated eyes upon her adopted father, the hellhound was happy to answer Blitzø's question.

"How about five fucking feet of space?!" She declared, before her legs still on the table budged, making room as the hellhound suddenly punted the triangular name plate for the square center of the imp's forehead.

"Oww! --Of course, sweetie!" Blitzø flinched, because of course he did, scrambling and catching the name plate. He neatly set it on the desk before scurrying back the requested distance, annoyingly measuring what was probably exactly five feet away. Despite getting dinked in the forehead, he looked absolutely delighted anyway. She was her regular fiesty self, all the anger and standoffishness she used to protect herself - god he loved her, he was so happy to see her doing alright.

Yeah, he didn't even have anything else to babble about, just staring fondly and appreciating her.

"...Ya look like shit."

It's another hellhound, hand propped on the desk as he leaned and casually looked her over. Denji didn't need to LOOK at her to know she'd hit the sauce pretty heavily, since she kinda reeked of it.

"I was gonna eat this, but I think you need this way more than I do."

Even when he was homeless and starving, he never hesitated to share. So he dropped his usual stir-fry combo take-out boxes before her. Steak and veggie. Extra pot stickers on the side.

"Takes one to know one dumbass." So said all three of Loona's active brain cells in delayed retort, not even looking up as her claws swiped dangerously in one go for the take-out box.

What followed certainly Mox could attest to Loona's impersonation of a kitchen trash can where her jaw threatened to pass a ninety-degree opening before the hellhound dumped the entire contents of the offered box into her mouth, before clamping shut, chewing on the whole concoction at once before she tossed the box over her shoulder into the wall.

It only took her a second to do the full Scooby-Doo-Sandwich routine before she chewed and gulped the greasy and tepid mess down, letting out the longest exhale possibly. "Fuck... that hit the spot-"

Loona stopped, her half lidded gaze landing on the sudden new person in the office with them and tried to hide her surprise - badly as testified by her ears, tail and fur near standing on end with a sound like cracking glass - as she took him in all at once.

Another hellhound?

Had Blitzø finally cracked and made good on his threat to replace her?! No. No. This guy wasn't fuck ugly, but he certainly wasn't on a scale of 1 to Vortex either-

Loona's face nearly entirely fell.

Oh fuck.

Had she done another one night stand and just completely blanked the guy followed her the whole way here?!

Fuckfuckfuck... okay, too late to pretend to play dead here, so she cleared her throat, trying to be as polite as possible...

"Thanks, uh... you." Why did she suddenly have a craving for gingerbread?

"...there's uh... change in the Office Cash box if you need any for a cab or anything..."

Loona hucked a thumb at the beaten and battered box sitting atop a filing cabinet from multiple attempts that had destroyed the lock.

OC - DONOT STEEL declared a sign politely taped over the useless box.

Let's be real, Vortex makes his name. But Denji canted his head, wondering what he'd need a cab for when he could just walk wherever he needed.

"...'You'? Damn... alright," he began, reaching down to part his chest fluff and reveal the chainsaw pull cord.

"Denji, by the way. I dunno if you remember dream land, but your old man took me in, and then invited me over to stay in his version of Hell. Somethin' got crossed and made me a hellhound."

He frowned. "...Do... we get fleas?"

Oh hey. There is, for some reason, a seven-foot bird here that isn't Stolas. "There's a gallon of cold brew in the fridge, if you want some. But I'm given to understand that protein and sports drinks are much better for it. So."

With a measured look, he set a bottle of miscellaneous... blue. Fluid. And a chocolate-covered bar advertising itself as being full of peanut butter. "It's been a while, Loona. Or maybe it hasn't. Not quite sure on how the timeline works, there."

Edited 2023-05-24 01:05 (UTC)

Loona took all of one moment to let Akechi's words sink in before her hand grasped blindly at the table until it found the chocolate bar that she proceeded to shred the living daylights out of its wrapper - tossed somewhere to the corner - before munching it whole.

The hellhound quickly went to drink from the offered bottle but suddenly stopped as soon as the bottle came into view of her eyeline, the Hellhound narrowing her eyes to slits before she sat up, holding the offending bottle up towards the would-be donor of the drink.

"...what the shit is this? Your momma never teach you not to eat anything blue or-"

"..."

Loona sat there for a moment, narrowing her eyes to the point they were near damn closed as she stared really, really hard at the source of the voice and trying to fit the incongruity together.

Been a while?

The voice was familiar, but...

"...say something again?"

"Something again. Also, it's a sports drink. As to what flavor... the bottle says 'Cool Blue'. What fucking fruit, if any, can be found in it, I have no idea. The flavor is 'blue'."

He frowned slightly. "Having any luck remembering?"

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Coming Home from a Dream

Helluva Hangover...

Not a hangover hallucination

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oh god who invited him

Re: oh god who invited him

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