"I hallucinate many things! But this... this is real. And I absolutely will side with our little one when you inevitably tickle them and have them backed in a corner."
Devious. A devious little chuckle.
"I'll give them the mischievous little bit of courage to fight back in a tickle fight."
"Only once you pull the trigger, my deer~" Alastor said dramatically, trying to ignore the pleasant touch on his ear. Trying to ignore how soft in general Lucifer made him.
Nngg-- playing dirty again, he won't let you pull a response that easily!
"Yes, yes, ancient instincts... but how many of your years did you actually spend hunting, hmm? I've got the act of stalking and tracking down to an art."
"Oh. Ohhohoho. Okay, so-" He squirmed a little to get comfy on that lap.
"Cherubs. Little candy-colored jerks, right? Sometimes they like to try and slip in unnoticed, figure they can get some brownie points with the bigwigs in Heaven by doing little acts of kindness. 'Lucifer, you beautiful, delectable snack- I haven't seen cherubs in Hell in decades,' you say! Weeeell..."
He grinned. "They have a particular scent to them, and they leave a signature in the air. They were easy to spot. So I watched them, tried to see if I knew them once, recognized them... complete strangers, but no less ripe for my game."
He slowly spidered his fingers up Alastor's upper arms. "They tried their very best, my love... they did little acts here, tried to perk others there. But they found it so hard to work some days: Their precious rations from Heaven started to dwindle, and they were so terrified of the food here, fearing it was cursed. The shadows began to lengthen. The insects, the vermin were so quiet around them most nights, leaving them to their thoughts. Their cheery demeanor began to dwindle as they realized their work wasn't bearing the fruit they wished. They could always leave, but they knew that was cowardice. Their own stubborn pride and self-righteousness would prevail, they thought..."
Claws then ran firmly down the arms, running warm trails without breaking skin. He took pleasure in telling the tale. "...They then began to fight amongst themselves. 'Whose idea was this?' 'It's your fault', 'no, it's YOUR fault'. It didn't help that I was leaving them fruit. Shiny, shiny, delicious-looking fruit. They were so hungry... oh, but they shouldn't take such things without knowing who gave it to them. One gave in, ate an apple."
He snickered. "The other three were so horrified, worried that their friend had been cursed, so they put him out of his misery all while begging for forgiveness... ahh, the sounds of the squabbling, their great plan falling apart bit by bit..."
"Devilish indeed...!" Alastor concurred, chuckling - his fur rippled with a wave of goosebumps as he felt those fingers wander and tease at him during that story. The image of such heavenly little sprites falling to in-fighting, to chaos, all from their paranoia and just the mere suggestion of suspicion.
A different kind of game... a different kind of hunt. But no less thrilling.
"Did the little creatures start tearing each other apart? Enact a righteous exorcism on their supposedly cursed little friend? Or perhaps you took the moment to pounce... like a lion in the grass, stalking his prey."
"Watching them make a big deal out of exorcising their little friend was way too funny to interrupt. They made a big ritual out of it, maybe to make sure the soul is found once more in Heaven. I sure didn't find a little fallen cherub down here after, so there's no telling where the little jerk went! Anyway, they had a leader among them, or at least one cherub that seemed to talk more than the rest. So when they settled down to rest at night, I decided to act as a spirit of justice. I had him questioning his holy crusade..."
He flourished his fingers. "How much more good would he do if he simply... cut away the chaff? They talk about about you when you're not around, they want to go home and leave you behind. You know, that sort of thing. And their paranoia, their hunger led to plenty of in-fighting, which led to their little leader making harsher calls, start to make demands. Oh, how they hated each other in the end, and worked to make sure something or someone would get the upper hand in their tiny, insignificant crusade.
"But then curiosity struck me: Can the local flora handle holy flesh? During a mission I'd curated that led them to some Goetia prince's garden, some door to door nonsense, all it took was a little... push. Turns out, Hell's carnivorous plants not only enjoy the flesh of heavenborn, but developed new flowers, even gained a newfound eldritch vigor! That's two down. Just the leader left."
He sighed! "I didn't want the game to end! I knew that, with this guy gone, that was that for the crusade, but I couldn't just let him go, now could I? What do I do? Do I assume the form of a serpent and eat him like a suckling pig? Nooo no no. I didn't want to deal with that. No, instead I decided to reward him for his crusade by letting him bear witness to his beloved spirit of justice, so that we may embrace and his passage back to Heaven would be to greater heights, to prestige among his kin. So I... approached after god-knows-how-long- I didn't keep track- and congratulated him on his crusade. The angered scream he gave, Alastor... oh...!"
He had to cackle. "He knew he had no shot! He wanted me to just kill him already, after all the playing I'd done, but I sat him down and put a cherry on top of the sundae with Temptation: With a little magic and some very strong points made- I remember mentioning that maybe if he goes where he thinks his friends are, he can ask them for forgiveness- I didn't need to lift a finger. Well- I lifted a hand only to offer him the knife.
New flowers, new ways to torment, beautiful, just beautiful! Having heavenly creatures turning on each other, a little pastel cherub taking the knife to their own throats, what an art.
Alastor was laughing and cackling like he'd heard the funniest joke in the world. Hell, he loved this man, this madman, what a perfect and creative monster he was. It just made Alastor want to bring him along to ruin an Overlord's life.
Finally, his laughter settled down. With that, Alastor trailed his fingers up Lucifer's side, feather-light.
"When I was a mortal man..."
He started the story there. Back when he didn't have any power, no magic, no nothing - back when he had to rely only on his hands and whatever ingenuity he could plan.
"...I think my favorite prey was this one particular man. I'd been hunting for a little bit of time - cut my teeth on a few miscreants, brutes, cruel fiends. This one, though... see, this brute was setting himself up in my territory. The axeman of New Orleans, they called him! At his behest, even - he'd sent a letter out. They have never caught me and they never will. They have never seen me, for I am invisible, even as the ether that surrounds your earth. I am not a human being, but a spirit and a demon from the hottest hell. I am what you Orleanians and your foolish police call the Axeman."
Lucifer wasn't going to hold back, laughing along with him. Sometimes you just needed to have a giggle with the one you loved, even if it was at the expense of small, relatively harmless creatures that were gaslit until they met their awful demise.
But after taking a breath, wiping a tear from his eye, and trying not to be too squirmy from the touch, he was content to just sit in his husband's lap and soak until he was pruney. But Alastor had a tale, and Lucifer huddled against him, head nestled against his shoulder.
Any story of Alastor's life on earth was fascinating. It was a slice of such a different time, formative in the United States, and breathed so much life into the 'why' of him.
But he was setting the scene, this tale of the 'Axeman', and Lucifer was entranced. God he loved his stories...
"Now, this man... he had a bit of panache, I'll admit. Bludgeoning with an axe, chopping victims like firewood - I could see the enjoyment in that! But see, this fella kept picking people in their homes at night. Wanted to leave his kills out in the open to be found. Wore the guise of a demon.
"Now... I enjoy a bit of theatrics. I never left my prey out, I never taunted the police. Convincing the city to all blast jazz together for a night? Beautiful! Striking.
"But coexisting was never an option. His taste in prey was offensive to me - when I read out the news that he'd split the skull of a pregnant woman, I set to hunt. The woman might've been blessed enough to survive and even give birth, but now, that just isn't sustainable hunting. You never hunt the does, you hunt the bucks, especially does with fawns."
There's a subtle little possessive squeeze around Lucifer's waist. His husband wasn't a frail doe, nor was he unarmed at any given moment even asleep, but every flicker of instinct told him to be protective anyway.
"But how does a mortal man find an invisible hunter? A demon, self-proclaimed, one that whined of the cold and missing his home in Tartarus? Lucky for me - that was all some tidy act he tried to embody. Instead I managed to find a man hurriedly fleeing a scene, a suspicious wrapped bundle, bloodied. Off into the woods he went! Hahah!"
He'd heard bits and pieces of his preferred methods for killing, and he never understood the ones that always wanted to make art pieces of the act. Sure, if they had the power to stand up to the authority figures that was just your average day, but he knew full well how fragile humans were, even as fascinating as they were.
But that, too, was a fascination: To be so fragile, yet so reckless...
Lucifer made a face with the description of that victim. He was aware of that particular hunting law- don't nab the does, don't go after the fawns- but it still had him gently clutching himself a bit.
Yet still he leaned, intrigued. "Hohoh... ♫ Into the woods without regret, the choice is made, the task is set~ ♫"
Just a wretched thing, wasn't it? Something to make one sick. The hunting law had its practicality - making sure the deer population survived human hunting - but to Alastor, the ban was so much more important than that.
You hunt the strongest, only those that would not be missed.
"I had to wonder, did he have a plan? Did he have himself a hideaway? Was he truly a demon? Or was this a fool underestimating the riverside? I let him get the lead because it was a wet night, and I needn't be right on his tail to keep track. His footprints sloshed deep in the mud and left smears of it on the rocks, over logs... he expected perhaps a footchase, some frantic flashlight from a cop investigating the scream. He must have wagered if he stayed far enough from the water's edge, there was no predator he ought to worry about.
"So naturally, I caught up. Peering from the dense trees that I knew so well - I'd already buried here, after all - and saw a scraggly man still shaking from his adrenaline high and looking around all paranoid, waiting to be pounced on by a vengeful townsfolk.
"Now, granted, I was just a man. No fancy magics working in my favor - my veves were only on a charm for myself tucked deep in my inner vest pocket, and that night I had only brought my spade, not sure if I'd get caught myself for being suspicious out and about at night. So I had a few choices... leave him out and about, taunt him for a game of cat and mouse, or drive him to his doom that very night by making him fear the bayou he was taking for granted."
"Into the woods, of course! With him SO strung-up, I knew I had to wear him down. A little bit of silent stalking more, and I found just what I needed - several fist-sized rocks. If you've got a strong arm and good aim, you can make quite a terrible cracking sound by hitting a tree. Sounds like a gunshot, even in a stuffy bog!
"As far as he knew, suddenly, someone was chasing him from the route he'd just come and he took off. I followed parallel to him, shadowing him from the trees - he had to use the path but I knew my stomping grounds enough to follow in the brush. This fool outed himself in that very moment to me - he wasn't even from Nawlins.
"And every time he turned a ways that might've led him towards a road? Why, suddenly there was a CRACK coming from that direction. And another, and another... this man ran himself deeper and deeper, even braving splashing through water to shake the scent. His only reprieve was when I couldn't be quiet, so I'd let him run ahead, think himself safe for a hair, before I started the paranoid cycle all over again."
"Isn't it the most embarrassing thing you've ever heard? Amateur. And the more frantic he got, the more he panicked! He stopped, brandished that axe, shouted - come out and face me like a man!!"
To that, even just remembering it, Alastor guffawed.
"Don't be SILLY. He still had that fight, that adrenaline. I let the bayou answer him with nothing but frogsong and settling water. By then, he was on that last pump of adrenaline... and then it was the waiting game. I watched from the shadows, waiting in silence, already catching my breath.
"And then his knees buckled. He hid himself away as best as he could in the crux of fallen trees, tangling himself in the roots. None the wiser as he fiddled with his boots to pour out the water, I swiped his axe and hacked off his leg below the knee! Hahahah!"
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sugaronthecream) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
divinetree2024-04-01 08:17 am
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"I'm adorable in many ways, my love, but I assure you that any squeal is purely in your imagination."
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Devious. A devious little chuckle.
"I'll give them the mischievous little bit of courage to fight back in a tickle fight."
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He eased against him, arms draped over his shoulders. One finger toyed with the black tip of an ear. "Then it's war, is it...?"
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"A trigger can be pulled any time, and with no warning. And before you know it..." He let that hang with a gentle tweak.
"I've lived a long time, Alastor. This isn't my first time lying in wait for an opportunity. So this'll be fun."
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"Yes, yes, ancient instincts... but how many of your years did you actually spend hunting, hmm? I've got the act of stalking and tracking down to an art."
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The smallest kiss on the nose.
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"Cherubs. Little candy-colored jerks, right? Sometimes they like to try and slip in unnoticed, figure they can get some brownie points with the bigwigs in Heaven by doing little acts of kindness. 'Lucifer, you beautiful, delectable snack- I haven't seen cherubs in Hell in decades,' you say! Weeeell..."
He grinned. "They have a particular scent to them, and they leave a signature in the air. They were easy to spot. So I watched them, tried to see if I knew them once, recognized them... complete strangers, but no less ripe for my game."
He slowly spidered his fingers up Alastor's upper arms. "They tried their very best, my love... they did little acts here, tried to perk others there. But they found it so hard to work some days: Their precious rations from Heaven started to dwindle, and they were so terrified of the food here, fearing it was cursed. The shadows began to lengthen. The insects, the vermin were so quiet around them most nights, leaving them to their thoughts. Their cheery demeanor began to dwindle as they realized their work wasn't bearing the fruit they wished. They could always leave, but they knew that was cowardice. Their own stubborn pride and self-righteousness would prevail, they thought..."
Claws then ran firmly down the arms, running warm trails without breaking skin. He took pleasure in telling the tale. "...They then began to fight amongst themselves. 'Whose idea was this?' 'It's your fault', 'no, it's YOUR fault'. It didn't help that I was leaving them fruit. Shiny, shiny, delicious-looking fruit. They were so hungry... oh, but they shouldn't take such things without knowing who gave it to them. One gave in, ate an apple."
He snickered. "The other three were so horrified, worried that their friend had been cursed, so they put him out of his misery all while begging for forgiveness... ahh, the sounds of the squabbling, their great plan falling apart bit by bit..."
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A different kind of game... a different kind of hunt. But no less thrilling.
"Did the little creatures start tearing each other apart? Enact a righteous exorcism on their supposedly cursed little friend? Or perhaps you took the moment to pounce... like a lion in the grass, stalking his prey."
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He flourished his fingers. "How much more good would he do if he simply... cut away the chaff? They talk about about you when you're not around, they want to go home and leave you behind. You know, that sort of thing. And their paranoia, their hunger led to plenty of in-fighting, which led to their little leader making harsher calls, start to make demands. Oh, how they hated each other in the end, and worked to make sure something or someone would get the upper hand in their tiny, insignificant crusade.
"But then curiosity struck me: Can the local flora handle holy flesh? During a mission I'd curated that led them to some Goetia prince's garden, some door to door nonsense, all it took was a little... push. Turns out, Hell's carnivorous plants not only enjoy the flesh of heavenborn, but developed new flowers, even gained a newfound eldritch vigor! That's two down. Just the leader left."
He sighed! "I didn't want the game to end! I knew that, with this guy gone, that was that for the crusade, but I couldn't just let him go, now could I? What do I do? Do I assume the form of a serpent and eat him like a suckling pig? Nooo no no. I didn't want to deal with that. No, instead I decided to reward him for his crusade by letting him bear witness to his beloved spirit of justice, so that we may embrace and his passage back to Heaven would be to greater heights, to prestige among his kin. So I... approached after god-knows-how-long- I didn't keep track- and congratulated him on his crusade. The angered scream he gave, Alastor... oh...!"
He had to cackle. "He knew he had no shot! He wanted me to just kill him already, after all the playing I'd done, but I sat him down and put a cherry on top of the sundae with Temptation: With a little magic and some very strong points made- I remember mentioning that maybe if he goes where he thinks his friends are, he can ask them for forgiveness- I didn't need to lift a finger. Well- I lifted a hand only to offer him the knife.
"He took care of the rest."
1/2
Alastor was laughing and cackling like he'd heard the funniest joke in the world. Hell, he loved this man, this madman, what a perfect and creative monster he was. It just made Alastor want to bring him along to ruin an Overlord's life.
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"When I was a mortal man..."
He started the story there. Back when he didn't have any power, no magic, no nothing - back when he had to rely only on his hands and whatever ingenuity he could plan.
"...I think my favorite prey was this one particular man. I'd been hunting for a little bit of time - cut my teeth on a few miscreants, brutes, cruel fiends. This one, though... see, this brute was setting himself up in my territory. The axeman of New Orleans, they called him! At his behest, even - he'd sent a letter out. They have never caught me and they never will. They have never seen me, for I am invisible, even as the ether that surrounds your earth. I am not a human being, but a spirit and a demon from the hottest hell. I am what you Orleanians and your foolish police call the Axeman."
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But after taking a breath, wiping a tear from his eye, and trying not to be too squirmy from the touch, he was content to just sit in his husband's lap and soak until he was pruney. But Alastor had a tale, and Lucifer huddled against him, head nestled against his shoulder.
Any story of Alastor's life on earth was fascinating. It was a slice of such a different time, formative in the United States, and breathed so much life into the 'why' of him.
But he was setting the scene, this tale of the 'Axeman', and Lucifer was entranced. God he loved his stories...
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"Now... I enjoy a bit of theatrics. I never left my prey out, I never taunted the police. Convincing the city to all blast jazz together for a night? Beautiful! Striking.
"But coexisting was never an option. His taste in prey was offensive to me - when I read out the news that he'd split the skull of a pregnant woman, I set to hunt. The woman might've been blessed enough to survive and even give birth, but now, that just isn't sustainable hunting. You never hunt the does, you hunt the bucks, especially does with fawns."
There's a subtle little possessive squeeze around Lucifer's waist. His husband wasn't a frail doe, nor was he unarmed at any given moment even asleep, but every flicker of instinct told him to be protective anyway.
"But how does a mortal man find an invisible hunter? A demon, self-proclaimed, one that whined of the cold and missing his home in Tartarus? Lucky for me - that was all some tidy act he tried to embody. Instead I managed to find a man hurriedly fleeing a scene, a suspicious wrapped bundle, bloodied. Off into the woods he went! Hahah!"
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But that, too, was a fascination: To be so fragile, yet so reckless...
Lucifer made a face with the description of that victim. He was aware of that particular hunting law- don't nab the does, don't go after the fawns- but it still had him gently clutching himself a bit.
Yet still he leaned, intrigued. "Hohoh... ♫ Into the woods without regret, the choice is made, the task is set~ ♫"
no subject
You hunt the strongest, only those that would not be missed.
"I had to wonder, did he have a plan? Did he have himself a hideaway? Was he truly a demon? Or was this a fool underestimating the riverside? I let him get the lead because it was a wet night, and I needn't be right on his tail to keep track. His footprints sloshed deep in the mud and left smears of it on the rocks, over logs... he expected perhaps a footchase, some frantic flashlight from a cop investigating the scream. He must have wagered if he stayed far enough from the water's edge, there was no predator he ought to worry about.
"So naturally, I caught up. Peering from the dense trees that I knew so well - I'd already buried here, after all - and saw a scraggly man still shaking from his adrenaline high and looking around all paranoid, waiting to be pounced on by a vengeful townsfolk.
"Now, granted, I was just a man. No fancy magics working in my favor - my veves were only on a charm for myself tucked deep in my inner vest pocket, and that night I had only brought my spade, not sure if I'd get caught myself for being suspicious out and about at night. So I had a few choices... leave him out and about, taunt him for a game of cat and mouse, or drive him to his doom that very night by making him fear the bayou he was taking for granted."
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Damn shame.
"What'd you pick? Those are all good options."
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"As far as he knew, suddenly, someone was chasing him from the route he'd just come and he took off. I followed parallel to him, shadowing him from the trees - he had to use the path but I knew my stomping grounds enough to follow in the brush. This fool outed himself in that very moment to me - he wasn't even from Nawlins.
"And every time he turned a ways that might've led him towards a road? Why, suddenly there was a CRACK coming from that direction. And another, and another... this man ran himself deeper and deeper, even braving splashing through water to shake the scent. His only reprieve was when I couldn't be quiet, so I'd let him run ahead, think himself safe for a hair, before I started the paranoid cycle all over again."
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"You brute! Chef's kiss. But splashing around in the water? Really? Definitely from out of town."
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To that, even just remembering it, Alastor guffawed.
"Don't be SILLY. He still had that fight, that adrenaline. I let the bayou answer him with nothing but frogsong and settling water. By then, he was on that last pump of adrenaline... and then it was the waiting game. I watched from the shadows, waiting in silence, already catching my breath.
"And then his knees buckled. He hid himself away as best as he could in the crux of fallen trees, tangling himself in the roots. None the wiser as he fiddled with his boots to pour out the water, I swiped his axe and hacked off his leg below the knee! Hahahah!"
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