divinetree | Charlie & Vox

There was no fight, especially from his earlier panicked, almost animalistic flight. With the hole wrapped closed, his arms almost haphazardly wrapped, he wasn't exactly looking stellar. But it wasn't like he was feeling stellar right now, anyway.

His legs could work, though. He managed one foot in front of the other in stepping out of the building and into the bright and blinding red. His screen flickered, buzzed, the sound mingled with a groan.

But he pushed through it, forced his gaze upward. There was a pentagram. A pentagram... what...?

Vee raised an arm to point at it, and turned his head to look at Charlie. Slowly, pixelated question marks began to litter the screen, for lack of voicing the confusion.

Keeping her hand on 'Vee's' shoulder, Charlie was almost confused herself by the question marks and the gesture - she looked up and into the sky, taking a second to register--

"Oh! That's... that's the Seal. That's... that's where you fell from. This is, uh... well, welcome to Pentagram City. It's part of the Pride Ring of... Hell."

Sinners never really reacted well to hearing that, she heard. And saw, from a distance, usually... but hopefully she could keep him from completely losing his mind about it...?? Or maybe crying and freaking out for a while would be good, actually? Oh gosh. Razzle behind the two of them shifted to his larger draconic form, getting ready to carry the princess and the hapless Sinner as requested.

Hell.

Hell.

He went numb, save for the waves of intense pain moving through his body from every wrapped wound. The hole in his head throbbed like a pulse. It felt like just minutes ago, he was full of life and ready to move forward with his campaign, his people beneath him. He was the brightest he'd ever been! But now...?

The exposed eye turned haunted, his pupil a pin. Text appeared on the screen again:

I'm dead? I died?

No question of not going to Heaven. He knew God would -never- move over for a usurper. But Vincent Whittman... dead at the height of his fame? He knew he would have climbed so much higher. No... no, he wasn't done yet. He couldn't be done. That- he was supposed to-- he was supposed to keep climbing! He had so much work that still needed to be done!

Would there be newspaper articles? News briefs? He needed to find them. He needed to confirm. He needed to see the people grieving him! He was a fucking GOD! He was their EVERYTHING!!

No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No

He clutched his head.

I wasn't ready yet I wasn't done

Dying... that sort of thing really must be so scary. Not feeling ready for it all to end, not feeling like you did what you needed to do... Charlie carefully kept her hands hovering nearby, in case the blood loss and panic attack made him collapse.

She doesn't have an answer for I'm sorry that you're dead. There just... isn't one.

"I know... I'm sorry."

He wasn't wondering why he went to hell, though. So... maybe he already knew he had done things that were wrong. ...She could ask later.

"Breathe, Vee - you still need to breathe."

Color bars filled his screen. Signal loss tones sounded through his remaining speaker. But the static rolled in an odd rhythm. Breathing... was he trying breathing?

Dead. Dead. Sent to Hell. Hell was REAL?? His mother would be pissing herself laughing right now.

No. He wouldn't collapse. He wouldn't cry. Crying was what weak men do. He instead gulped for air, fought to still a heart he somehow still had. But what did that make him now? Was he still a person? When she spoke of televisions, she said his head as a TV? Was it REALLY??

He looked to the windows of the building they'd left, and saw his reflection. Bloodied. Battered. A television for a head. Something fell, struck him. One of his fucking decorative TVs??

Hell ran on IRONY?? Laughable. Stupid. Ridiculous. Why was his head so god damned HEAVY, he couldn't exist like this, it hurt so much--

"---am---"

He struggled. Made a brief connection. It wasn't like vocal chords, air passing through. His mind rushed, swapped through channels. Using an amalgam of sound from the channels he could pick up, he tried again-

"---What---"
"---Am---"
"---I?---"

"...You're a Sinner. A Sinner is... a kind of demon," Charlie informed.

She couldn't perceive it, but Vincent certainly would be able to - the presence of something else in the airwaves, pressuring back, probing - like a curious hand from the shadows.

She couldn't perceive it, so she just kept talking.

"You are a demon, now. And... well. You... live here, with the other Sinners, and everyone else in Hell."

...What was that? What was that?? It was like a touch against his senses, like a finger brushing against skin. Vee flinched a little, and cast his gaze around.

A Sinner. A demon. So humans became... demons... in Hell. They got a title, an apt one at that. Yeah, he'd committed more than his fair share of sin. That's what a body count does for you.

Get it together. Get it together, Vince.

His breaths still left him as short, hiccuping gasps, but he tried again. He swapped channels. Give him a second-

"--Being--"
"--Watched--"

He reached a shaky hand out to her shoulder.

"--Need--"
"--Leave--"

"Uh, well. Yeah! We are out in public, yeah," Charlie nodded, not catching on to what he was saying exactly. Razzle lowered his head, letting out a low friendly rumble. "Right! So-- we'll just ride on Razzle back to where I know it's safe. Fair? I'll make sure you don't fall off!"

Does... she not feel it? That strangeness in the air? It was making his skin crawl.

But he nodded, and he moved automatically in a force of habit: Offering Charlie a bent leg and a hand to a step up onto the... dra-dragon mount, wow??? The little guys grow like that?

Didn't matter. He needed to get OUT of here. Seriously, what WAS that?? A demon??

"Oh, thank you!" Charlie gave him a little curtsy in thanks - at least he was a gentleman and wasn't too panicked to be one! That's a good sign! Once she hopped up onto Razzle, she offered her hand to him back to help him up as Razzle lowered his neck as low as possible. Dazzle happily fluttered and clung onto his brother's back further down.

Something flipped in his stomach, caught him by surprise amid the frazzled nerves. But he offered nothing save for the grasp of the hand before he mounted behind her. The other hand braced against what he was aware was his head now, so unwieldy and heavy, keeping it from wobbling and striking her, or dislocate his neck.

...How was he going to sleep with this damn thing? Do Sinners sleep? This was... this was punishment. Torture.

So why was -she- so kind, even knowing what he was...?

"Alright, hold on tight!" Charlie insisted, holding onto Razzle's fur as the dragon spread his wings and flapped, lazily lifting them over the city buildings. The air was sulfuric, smoky - there were buildings and construction, but in the distance one could see fires and hear gunfights. Bright lights for casinos, brothels, all sorts of dens of sin... but the Princess didn't live there, apparently.

Razzle flew them to the manor. While it was gated for security, that obviously didn't matter too much for the dragon - his appearance was unique to the Princess, after all, and a few imps walked to where they landed to greet her.

"...Ah, your highness. You brought a guest?" asked a strange little red creature, not unlike the ones in the building Vincent had fled to.

"Oh! Yeah - he's hurt, so I was going to make sure he was patched up and regenerating okay."

"Of course. The rooms will be prepared."

"It's fine! I can do it, don't worry. Here, Vee - let me help you down, you look a little top-heavy...!"

This was... this was Hell? There were fires, he could hear gunshots, but there were business here. There was a CITY here. It seemed he'd fallen into a particularly run down part of it, loaning to it being just a desolate place of malcontent. And he LIVED here now...?

Did they have news here? Variety shows? Talk shows...? She recognized televisions but, how did they get down here--

They landed and he was distracted by the manor. They weren't just calling her 'princess' as some term of endearment. No, she was... the real thing? But wait, was SHE the devil? Or did the devil have a kid--

He blinked at her offer, snapping to the present. He waved a placating hand- it's right, he wouldn't trouble her- and shifted one leg over to right himself.

But a hard spark of pain arced through his neck, sent him momentarily rigid as electricity flit up and out of his body. His head felt like lead. He pitched, and...

Whoops, down he goes, look out below-

"Whoop...!"

Quickly, Charlie's hands caught Vee's shoulder and hip before he completely pitched over and crumbled. The last licks of the electricity had her wincing a bit, but carefully she readjusted her grip and lifted him up.

"Hold on! I've got you, Vee. Let's juuuust... balance your head here on my shoulder aaaand... there we go!"

He's injured, after all - she'll just carry him inside, easily like he didn't have the weight of a full grown man. Razzle and Dazzle fluttered behind her, the former having shrunk down to his preferred size as they were ushered inside by the imp at the door.

Oh.

Uhm.

Lady, what the fuck can you lift-

If you asked any at the VNN station, they'd praise Charlie for her ability to render Vincent mercifully silent. He'd never been carried before, and needed a good- uh- minute to process. Unsure of where to put his hands, he instead laced his own fingers together and kept them tight against his stomach.

His eye trailed along her neck, so close to it now that he couldn't help but notice. The jawline. That... wasn't a make-up thing, was it? The white skin, the cheek spots...? Where were the horns? The wings? Tail...?

And the nose!! She didn't go far - there was a wash room just down the hall, and just as Charlie went to elbow the door open, Dazzle quickly opened the door for her so they could go inside. "Thaaank you!"

It was clean, tidy... and rather ornate. No real surprise, there - it fit right into the look of the manor, as did the chaise lounge she carefully started to lower him onto. Never mind that he would get it bloody - Charlie didn't worry about that one bit.

"Okay, yeah, you just relax and sit tight - Dazzle, can you go get the first aid stuff? And Razzle, can you please go get some drinking water for us? Thanks! Let's see... let's get the hot water running, that'll be a little nicer than a cold cloth, right?"

Good thing there's all these fluffy towels! It's enough to make you forget where you are, for a minute. "Oh-- I promise I won't make you owe me anything or say you have to stay here or whatever. Uh, I know sometimes people like to take advantage or whatever, but I think that's kinda mean, so I don't really do it, and you're all my people so I should take care of you anyways!" Charlie started prattling as she ran the sink, soaking a hand towel with warm water.

He settled on the lounge and wobbled a bit, heart racing and dizzy. He'd- he'd get it messy, and probably need to pay for it. But does Hell do money...? They had casinos, he'd seen. What do they trade? ...Oh god, souls??

Hell no. He's never selling his fucking soul. That's his first hard rule here. He'll get someone ELSE'S--

He sat up straighter, clutching the cushions beneath him to keep himself still as it was almost like she'd read his mind. But off she went for things, and he watched her go.

Vee leaned, owlishly blinking. What a weird woman. Kind, pretty. ...Really weird. Not Hell-like.

Then something caught his peripheral, and he lifted his gaze to a massive portrait above the mantle: The woman he just met but decidedly younger, a rather short and goofy-looking guy in a top hat and white suit, and what had to be the most heart-achingly gorgeous woman he'd ever laid eyes on.

Well, there's your answer. The Devil looks like an idiot. ...Lucifer, right? THAT'S the guy that defied God and got grounded for it? Then that must be... Lilith.

Holy shit. They really were... real.

They were really, really real - and their daughter was currently babbling, rattling off about trying to remember what she learned about tending wounds or how sometimes Sinners have a pretty unlucky first day, or--

"Oh! Right. Let's see... this suit is pretty much, uh. Gone? But we can get you some more clothes, so don't feel too bad, okay?"

She carefully crouched and started to gently dab at the blood at the base of Vee's neck. His head looked... reaally heavy and uncomfortable, and probably hurt a lot. Actually, maybe leaving the warm cloth on his neck for a little would help.

It was a little strange, maybe, for blood to linger on his neck and see no discernible injury for it. Oh, but the suit was basically toast. Guess he needed to stick to button-ups, as nothing was going to be able to be pulled up and over his head. Shame... but he liked dressing up anyway. He'll just miss sweatshirts and t-shirts, the casualness of them.

The warm cloth felt... nice. He raised a claw and looked it over, navy skin and curved metallic tips. Bigger, too. Strange... he even clenched and unclenched it a little.

He slowly raised his head to regard her, even if his eye creased a bit in pain from the movement. It disappeared to make more space on the screen:

Thank you, Your Highness I insist on repaying. <:)

"No, it's okay. Don't worry about that, just focus on healing first. There's a little bit of good news - healing up is a lot faster for you than for living things! Because you're an immortal soul, now. I've seen demons with technology for their heads or backs or arms and stuff - even that stuff will pull itself together and fix, too. You'll feel much better soon," she explained.

Hmm... the suit was definitely toast, and it was pretty torn and bloody all over... without thinking much of it, Charlie started unbuttoning it, so she could get a better look.

Pull himself together and mend... he guessed it wouldn't be much of a punishment in Hell if Sinners could just kill each other and be done with their damnation. To heal up and face what else you 'deserved' just made sense.

It was strange, but the pain of earlier was even now a bit lessened. He'd been beaten up like this in his childhood, and even then, he was down for the count for days from countless bruises, a bloodied nose and more. He wondered what he'd be like tomorr--

Vee sat up straighter in surprise, heart in his throat as snow flashed in what little of his screen wasn't covered by bandages. He gripped the cushion beneath him tighter. There was more navy skin beneath, and among the bruises were almost rib-like lines on his torso. ...Gills?

But he seemed to be radiating a distinct warmth now, very small fans kicking off somewhere in his torso to try and cool himself down. His eye reappeared, trying to avert and look anywhere but at her.

"--Great--"
"--First--"
"--Day--"

Jokes. He's got 'em. Makes things less embarrassing.

"Good, I'm glad! Definitely gonna try and make it a better one!" Charlie laughed, unabashed about undressing a man.

After all, it wasn't like they were those people who fuck in the middle of the street. Not to even mention Lust...!

After taking a minute to carefully examine the body, realizing the gills were gills and not cuts, finding some harsh bruising... looks like a few nasty kicks or hits, but no stabbing or kidney theft...!

"And you'll figure out how to do all the stuff normally in no time flat. Hell is a punishment, but... maybe it can also be home, in a way. That's what I believe, anyway."

Yeah. She's definitely strange. Hopeful! Like people could just enjoy their afterlife here or something. But there seemed to be amenities everywhere, like any other city. He wondered if there were any good drive-ins, maybe a soda jerk somewhere...

But he released his claws, only to reach up and idly touch where he mouth would be. He seemed to emit sound from a speaker somewhere like a television, but... did that mean he didn't need to eat?

Beneath the bruises, his stomach twisted mildly inward, gnawing. Peckish. He felt hunger, then. But... no mouth...? So how does he-

Wait. He looked back to the portrait.

Is it OK that I'm here??

"Huh...? Oh! Yeah, no, pshh-- mom trusts me!" Charlie laughed a bit, giving Vee's shoulder a little joking pat, "And dad's kinda... well, ehh... it's whatever, he hasn't really done anything besides lecture me when I bring someone in to patch them up. Mom does this sort of thing now and then too-- she's always working to make sure we're in this together."

The imp from before returned, a shirt folded up and held in his hands. "Once the wounds are no longer bleeding, princess," he informed, leaving it folded and sat on the counter.

"Thanks! But, yeah... I... I want to be like my mom. The Sinners and the Hellborn... they're all our people. And people deserve a chance to try again."

But they're already here.

He canted his head. 'Trying again' means a second chance, sure, but to what end when the decision had been made?

I don't remember going to any gates or being judged. I died, and then... here I am.

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