icecoldbitchbird

[icecoldbitchbird]

A rare spark of genuine amusement flickered in Andrealphus’ eyes as his baby sister suggested that Stella took a nice, relaxing, vacation in order to recover. A smirk curved onto the corner of his beak, one of his eyebrows quirking upwards as he stared across at Coronis. “You mean ship her off on some vacation so that she can’t lower the tone?” he spoke in his usual direct and blunt manner, reflected what he had heard from her words.

If he was correct, and that was what she was suggesting, then there was a slither of him that was impressed at the sheer audacity and calculation. If her suggestion had been genuinely heartfelt and void of ulterior motive then…well, she was as ridiculous and dull as he usually gave her credit for.

“I expect, in the absence of our sister, that you are happy to host…” he noted breezily, knowing fully well that she would detest the idea.

@icecoldbitchbird

Being summoned usually meant office work. Or some other chore. But nevertheless, it was still nerve-wracking to be asked to see her elder brother.

"You, er, wanted to see me?"

[icecoldbitchbird]

‘I do not expect you to understand what you cannot see’? How patronising. Andrealphus tightened his jaw ever-so-slightly, beak grinding in the manner it so often did when he was displeased. The man prided himself on his intellect: his ability the scan wide and complex sets of information with scrutiny and accuracy in order to ensure his arguments were forged in steel. To think that there was a concept he was incapable of understanding, a puzzle he could not solve, made him angry. But, perhaps, Vassago was right and he’d been made blind by his upbringing. From Andrealphus’ earliest memory he’d been fed the truth that reputation, status and duty were the only things that mattered — above things as frivolous as his own happiness — the thought of denouncing that filled him with a sense of deep fear. That overwhelming feeling of not being good enough, of letting his family down, of being a societal embarrassment. Abandoned by all and without purpose.

In truth, Andrealphus was, at least partially, wilfully blind — he was no fool, but rather, paralysed by his fear of change. If the world was shifting then…what if there was no place for him within it? A sense of dread began to settle in his chest, heavy and unshakable. It was only made worse by the conspiratorial way that Vassago spoke. “If you are privy to information that I don’t have, feel free to enlighten me,” he noted, knowing fully well that there was little chance the Prince would oblige.

The peacock strode gracefully towards the exit, his face a mask of pure ice that he hoped was covering the flurry of concerns that stormed through his mind. “Thank you, Vassago. It’s always a pleasure speaking with you,” Hm, well, pleasure probably wasn’t the correct word for how he was feeling right now, but it felt suitably complimentary. Andrealphus stepped through the portal, embraced lovingly by the ice chill of his mansion — he turned to utter something, but the words died in his throat as his hand was taken and a warm kiss placed upon it. And, just like that, the great marquis found himself utterly speechless. “Uh, y-yes…indeed. Likewise, Vassago…good night…” the words stumbled from his beak with a complete lack of grace. As soon as the portal had closed, his mind began to catch up with him. Andrealphus, face flushing crimson, threw his head into his hands with a loud groan. “…fuck him…stupid, charming, smug, bastard…” he grumbled from behind his hands. Satan almighty, he was royally fucked.

starter for the lovely @vassago-rp

The soft, demonic, glow of turquoise eyes reflected back at Andrealphus from the crystalline windows of his snow-covered mansion. An appreciative chirping trill hummed in his throat as he inspected his appearance — the substantial amount of time the marquis had spent preening in front of the mirror that morning had clearly paid off. There wasn’t a single feather out of place on his body. To others, his immaculate appearance was a sign of of his unconcealed vanity. Just the pompous theatrics of an attention hungry peacock. To Andrealphus, applying a delicate, subtle, swipe of eyeliner or adorning his body in luxurious silks and precious gems was the same as applying war paint and battle armour. Truth is, the bird would sooner be caught dead than poorly dressed. It was a power move. A weapon that could be weirded on the social battlefield. The icy-cold avian had found that social meetings were little more than a vicious battlefield, disguised as civility. The simple truth of the matter was that any minor misstep could damage your reputation — and there was nothing more important to most goetia than their reputation.

Thanks to his brain dead sister and her, tragically beautiful, bastard of a husband their reputation had been…on thin ice, so to speak. As the only member of his family who seemed capable of successfully utilising his intellect, it’d soon become his responsibility to oversee damage control. It was laborious. More than ever, the need to be perfect had began to weigh heavy as the diamond-encrusted tiara that sat atop his head.

The sound of the door handle squeaking softly snapped Andrealphus out of his thoughts — what an unpleasant noise. He really ought to get that damn thing replaced! The door swept open to reveal his guest of honour, Prince Vassago. The impish butler that had led the prince to the room bowed deeply before closing the door behind Vassago and fleeing to ready the tea. “Your majesty, I’m so glad you could make it~” there was a light-hearted ease within his words, the peacock bowing a little in a gesture of respect. Andrealphus then took a moment to allowed his eyes to linger on the prince’s appearance, the brilliant red feathers of the other man were vibrant against the backdrop of snow and ice. With a delicate sweep of his hand, Andrealphus gestured towards the table, two impish servants scurried to pull out chairs for both of the men, “Please, take a seat.”

[icecoldbitchbird]

A pink-hued blush arose on his cheeks at the unrestrained, and utterly undignified, bout of laughter. His arms moved to cross themselves stiffly, and defensively, across his chest. “I really do not see what you find so amusing, Vassago.” there was an icy abrasiveness in his words. Andrealphus was never slow to taking offence, especially when he felt he was being made fun of. The marquis had settled a piercing look on the Prince now, much akin to when he was debating someone in the council — cold, analytical and probably mildly unnerving. “Ah, I see, the pursuit of happiness…” he repeated the sentiment, “You propose that the presence of fulfilment marks a pursuit as worthwhile yet you claim that power is a pursuit of no value. I fail to see how that denotes power and status as anything other than pursuits that you, personally, find meaningless…” Which, considering he was born with the highest possible power and status, makes perfect sense. It was rare to covet what you already have.

Ah yes, Asmodeus, the other member of Goetian royalty that had decided to make a mockery of their entire class. The situation did unsettle Andrealphus — Stolas would have been enough of an issue by himself, but with a deadly sin like Asmodeus entering the picture things became increasingly more bleak. “It is true that recent events have been…” he paused to conjure the right word, “destabilising…however, it is my belief that tradition wins out in the end.” Or, at least, that’s what he told himself to soothe his nerves surrounding the issue. “We’ve operated in one way for millennia to great success, it would be a foolish move push for change where it is not needed.”

The peacock allowed his brow to furrow a little at the mention of Octavia. The poor girl had been spending the majority of the time with he and his sister, who was doing her utmost to poison the girl’s opinions on her father. “She does…” he stated with ease, “I speak to the man enough to ensure her visits are organised properly. Surely, that is all that is needed,”

starter for the lovely @vassago-rp

The soft, demonic, glow of turquoise eyes reflected back at Andrealphus from the crystalline windows of his snow-covered mansion. An appreciative chirping trill hummed in his throat as he inspected his appearance — the substantial amount of time the marquis had spent preening in front of the mirror that morning had clearly paid off. There wasn’t a single feather out of place on his body. To others, his immaculate appearance was a sign of of his unconcealed vanity. Just the pompous theatrics of an attention hungry peacock. To Andrealphus, applying a delicate, subtle, swipe of eyeliner or adorning his body in luxurious silks and precious gems was the same as applying war paint and battle armour. Truth is, the bird would sooner be caught dead than poorly dressed. It was a power move. A weapon that could be weirded on the social battlefield. The icy-cold avian had found that social meetings were little more than a vicious battlefield, disguised as civility. The simple truth of the matter was that any minor misstep could damage your reputation — and there was nothing more important to most goetia than their reputation.

Thanks to his brain dead sister and her, tragically beautiful, bastard of a husband their reputation had been…on thin ice, so to speak. As the only member of his family who seemed capable of successfully utilising his intellect, it’d soon become his responsibility to oversee damage control. It was laborious. More than ever, the need to be perfect had began to weigh heavy as the diamond-encrusted tiara that sat atop his head.

The sound of the door handle squeaking softly snapped Andrealphus out of his thoughts — what an unpleasant noise. He really ought to get that damn thing replaced! The door swept open to reveal his guest of honour, Prince Vassago. The impish butler that had led the prince to the room bowed deeply before closing the door behind Vassago and fleeing to ready the tea. “Your majesty, I’m so glad you could make it~” there was a light-hearted ease within his words, the peacock bowing a little in a gesture of respect. Andrealphus then took a moment to allowed his eyes to linger on the prince’s appearance, the brilliant red feathers of the other man were vibrant against the backdrop of snow and ice. With a delicate sweep of his hand, Andrealphus gestured towards the table, two impish servants scurried to pull out chairs for both of the men, “Please, take a seat.”

[icecoldbitchbird]

Andrealphus tightened his jaw ever-so-slightly, beak grinding in the manner it so often did when he was displeased. “Unsurprising, but disappointing all the same,” was the clipped response that he gave, bringing a hand to his temple and attempting to massaging away his impending headache. Stella was going to have to get over it eventually — yes, Stolas cheated. The man was clearly gay and she never loved him anyway. Plus, the fact that it was an imp that he allowed to fuck him was more embarrassing for him than her. The sooner they could all bury her shambolic mess of a marriage the better. If Stella insisted on bringing it up at every opportunity then moving past it would be impossible.

Truly. If the woman had an ounce of logical thought in her body she might actually be a threat to someone other than herself.

“You see, rumours of abuse have begun to stir…nasty business…” his words were monotone as though he were simply discussing a mundane business arrangement, “I sincerely hope I don’t have to explain to you that such rumours will make it difficult for the council to look favourably upon our darling sister.” More importantly, it would look bad for the rest of them. This party was an attempt to maintain their reputation — therefore, there could be no Stolas talk. Especially not vile, verbally abusive, talk.

Andrealphus got a slightly far away look in his eyes as he began to think, “…perhaps we do not need her…” he began to mumble to himself, “…excuse her absence as due to the emotional difficulty of her divorce, which would excuse a certain level of recent hostility…”

@icecoldbitchbird

Being summoned usually meant office work. Or some other chore. But nevertheless, it was still nerve-wracking to be asked to see her elder brother.

"You, er, wanted to see me?"

[icecoldbitchbird]

Andrealphus was aware that their sister had all the charm of a soggy napkin. It was a fun little headache-inducing factor that made his life more difficult on the regular. Still, Stella wasn’t a complete lost cause when it came to social events, unlike Coronis — who so often stumbled and fumbled in simple conversations.

“Indeed she does,” he allowed the words to slip slowly from his lips, one of his talons tapping steadily against the desk. Stella was never amiss for friends, that much was very true. Andrealphus had never been quite so rich in that department, but was too busy to notice or care most of the time.

“…the issue, dear sister, is that I am hoping she can go the night…without mentioning her, soon to be ex, husband..?” Andrealphus watched Coronis closely as though attempting to read the truth from her expression even if it wasn’t given to him freely. This was important.

@icecoldbitchbird

Being summoned usually meant office work. Or some other chore. But nevertheless, it was still nerve-wracking to be asked to see her elder brother.

"You, er, wanted to see me?"

[icecoldbitchbird]

Andrealphus’ gaze, ever analytical and unreadable, remained locked onto his younger sister. Despite her silence, there was a twinge of something upset on her features. “Now, now. Don’t make that face,” he waved his hand a little as though physically brushing away the topic, “You know I say it with love.”

“I’m in the process of organising a formal event…dinner and dancing,” he began to explain, crossing one of his legs gracefully over the other as he finally removed his piercing stare from his sister in order to gaze off out the window, “…our family has been through a lot, what with all of that ghastly divorce business going on, after all,” Andrealphus wasn’t referencing the emotional turmoil here so much as the knock it had put on their reputation. A social event was a good way to gloss over any issues. “You have seen Stella more recently than I, do you think she would be able to…” he paused in order to find the right word, “play the charming hostess?”

@icecoldbitchbird

Being summoned usually meant office work. Or some other chore. But nevertheless, it was still nerve-wracking to be asked to see her elder brother.

"You, er, wanted to see me?"

[icecoldbitchbird]

“I-I…That’s not..I—” the words of protest, so quick to try and claw their way up his throat, died a quick death as he realised he had utterly no idea what to say. Vassago was unequivocally and whole-heartedly correct in his assessment of Andrealphus. For the first time in a long time, it felt as though someone was seeing him without all of the posturing and pretence. It was mortifying, the way it left him feeling vulnerable — but perhaps worse, were the lingering feelings of something more warm, fluttering and perhaps hopeful. Those feelings had no name, or at least, so as far as Andrealphus was able to give them. They felt entirely foreign. “and I suppose you’ll be telling me the true greatest pursuit in life is..? what?” he squinted a little at the Prince, his words carrying their usual haughtiness despite his genuine want to know Vassago’s thoughts, “..knowledge? pleasure? family? love?”

Andrealphus had never liked being made to wait. There was a tension in his jaw as he gazed, unfalteringly, at the Prince, his meal long forgotten. The sound of one of his boots tapping impatiently against the floor could be heard. “An interesting hypothetical, indeed” he mused as Vassago finally spoke once more, deciding to take a bite or two more of his food before setting it aside, “I suppose we will never know, will we?” There was no way that there would ever be a situation where an imp would be placed, in any capacity, within the council — or the wider Ars Goetia family, for that matter.

Opposites, indeed. Andrealphus wondered if there were anything that they actually saw eye to eye on. It made for a stimulating conversation, that was for sure. “I regret to inform you that Stolas and I are not on speaking terms” the words were short, matter-of-fact and just a tiny bit irritated. ‘Nor will be ever be,’ he wanted to add. Why? Andrealphus wasn’t entirely sure. It had been clear, since their earlier conversation, that Vassago thought very highly of Stolas. It didn’t sit well with him, and not just because of the divorce. “We are clearly very different men, Vassago. I take no comfort in the thought that my life’s work is insignificant and meaningless.”

starter for the lovely @vassago-rp

The soft, demonic, glow of turquoise eyes reflected back at Andrealphus from the crystalline windows of his snow-covered mansion. An appreciative chirping trill hummed in his throat as he inspected his appearance — the substantial amount of time the marquis had spent preening in front of the mirror that morning had clearly paid off. There wasn’t a single feather out of place on his body. To others, his immaculate appearance was a sign of of his unconcealed vanity. Just the pompous theatrics of an attention hungry peacock. To Andrealphus, applying a delicate, subtle, swipe of eyeliner or adorning his body in luxurious silks and precious gems was the same as applying war paint and battle armour. Truth is, the bird would sooner be caught dead than poorly dressed. It was a power move. A weapon that could be weirded on the social battlefield. The icy-cold avian had found that social meetings were little more than a vicious battlefield, disguised as civility. The simple truth of the matter was that any minor misstep could damage your reputation — and there was nothing more important to most goetia than their reputation.

Thanks to his brain dead sister and her, tragically beautiful, bastard of a husband their reputation had been…on thin ice, so to speak. As the only member of his family who seemed capable of successfully utilising his intellect, it’d soon become his responsibility to oversee damage control. It was laborious. More than ever, the need to be perfect had began to weigh heavy as the diamond-encrusted tiara that sat atop his head.

The sound of the door handle squeaking softly snapped Andrealphus out of his thoughts — what an unpleasant noise. He really ought to get that damn thing replaced! The door swept open to reveal his guest of honour, Prince Vassago. The impish butler that had led the prince to the room bowed deeply before closing the door behind Vassago and fleeing to ready the tea. “Your majesty, I’m so glad you could make it~” there was a light-hearted ease within his words, the peacock bowing a little in a gesture of respect. Andrealphus then took a moment to allowed his eyes to linger on the prince’s appearance, the brilliant red feathers of the other man were vibrant against the backdrop of snow and ice. With a delicate sweep of his hand, Andrealphus gestured towards the table, two impish servants scurried to pull out chairs for both of the men, “Please, take a seat.”

[icecoldbitchbird]

“How so?” Andrealphus asked directly, his head cocked to the side a little as he gazed, questioningly across at Vassago. Andrealphus suspected that he already knew the answer — he was faltering. It were as though two halves of himself were warring. There was the usual side of him that flaunted his beauty and talent, desperate for praise and attention. Then there was whatever this shit show was. It was all Vassago’s fault, he decided bitterly. It was his sincerity that left the marquis wanting to deflect all conversation about himself. The stakes seemed too high…as though, if he were to indulge himself in the praise, he might show something far too genuine in response.

“…you truly believe a grocer to be equal in importance to a prince…?” he uttered the words as though barely believing that he had heard them properly in the first place. A genuine scoff slipped from Andrealphus’ beak, his head shaking a little at the sheer ridiculousness of what the Prince was saying. The simple truth was: a lowly imp would not survive 5 minutes in the tumultuous political landscape of the Ars Goetia — although, he was sure it would be entertaining to watch one try~ “You downplay your own contributions and talents, your highness,” the words slipped from his beak like a soft purr, a measured smile decorating his features. “I cannot speak for your childhood, but I, myself, have spent my entire life being prepared for my duties to the council,” he paused for a moment, “It is a lofty duty, and one that our kind have endless years of expertise within,” To think that someone could simply step in and perform the role was preposterous in Andrealphus’ eyes.

This, bizarrely, felt far more natural to Andrealphus. The two rarely saw eye to eye on topics such as this, but at least he felt more akin to the cold, level-headed, diplomat that debated within the council — not some flustered idiot that was so terrified of being authentically seen by the handsome man in front of him that he stopped functioning properly. “Ah, I see…so we are all equally replaceable…” he mused, “That’s not a very comforting thought, Vassago, makes me feel rather redundant.” After all, if Andrealphus’ life was measured entirely by his work. If died tomorrow and they held no struggle in replacing him then…well, what was his worth?

starter for the lovely @vassago-rp

The soft, demonic, glow of turquoise eyes reflected back at Andrealphus from the crystalline windows of his snow-covered mansion. An appreciative chirping trill hummed in his throat as he inspected his appearance — the substantial amount of time the marquis had spent preening in front of the mirror that morning had clearly paid off. There wasn’t a single feather out of place on his body. To others, his immaculate appearance was a sign of of his unconcealed vanity. Just the pompous theatrics of an attention hungry peacock. To Andrealphus, applying a delicate, subtle, swipe of eyeliner or adorning his body in luxurious silks and precious gems was the same as applying war paint and battle armour. Truth is, the bird would sooner be caught dead than poorly dressed. It was a power move. A weapon that could be weirded on the social battlefield. The icy-cold avian had found that social meetings were little more than a vicious battlefield, disguised as civility. The simple truth of the matter was that any minor misstep could damage your reputation — and there was nothing more important to most goetia than their reputation.

Thanks to his brain dead sister and her, tragically beautiful, bastard of a husband their reputation had been…on thin ice, so to speak. As the only member of his family who seemed capable of successfully utilising his intellect, it’d soon become his responsibility to oversee damage control. It was laborious. More than ever, the need to be perfect had began to weigh heavy as the diamond-encrusted tiara that sat atop his head.

The sound of the door handle squeaking softly snapped Andrealphus out of his thoughts — what an unpleasant noise. He really ought to get that damn thing replaced! The door swept open to reveal his guest of honour, Prince Vassago. The impish butler that had led the prince to the room bowed deeply before closing the door behind Vassago and fleeing to ready the tea. “Your majesty, I’m so glad you could make it~” there was a light-hearted ease within his words, the peacock bowing a little in a gesture of respect. Andrealphus then took a moment to allowed his eyes to linger on the prince’s appearance, the brilliant red feathers of the other man were vibrant against the backdrop of snow and ice. With a delicate sweep of his hand, Andrealphus gestured towards the table, two impish servants scurried to pull out chairs for both of the men, “Please, take a seat.”

[icecoldbitchbird]

There was a small huff of amusement that slipped from Andrealphus’ beak. Subtle and understated, it was easy to miss. What was more obvious was the glimmer of genuine amusement dancing in his eyes. “It suits my tastes perfectly~” he hummed out, idly bringing a finger to run across the rim of his wine glass, leaving a frost in it’s wake — he then took a slow sip.

Andrealphus raised a delicate eyebrow upwards, gazing across at Vassago with a momentary look of disbelief as the Prince confirmed that his desire to hear him play piano was, in fact, entirely sincere. The compliment, paired with the sincerity, caused Andrealphus to melt a little. Much to his horror, he could feel a heat rising to his cheeks. It was ridiculous! He received endless compliments, why was this different? “I am exceptionally skilled,” the marquis agreed, never one to downplay his prowess. “I’m not convinced talent has much hand in things though…simply training.”

The very thought of getting food stuck within his talons or between his feathers sent a cold shiver down his spine, it translated onto his face quite plainly. The logic was perfectly sound, similar to his love of piano — but piano was a respectable hobby that befitted a Goetia. “I prefer the labours of the mind,” the peacock responded with ease, his turquoise gaze locked on Vassago’s face as though attempting to read some kind of joke. There was none. As usual, he was being sincere. What a puzzle of a man. How could a Goetian prince view himself upon the same level as common labourers? Andrealphus sensed that he needed to step carefully in order not to offend the Prince.

“It is my belief that we all keep Hell running,” the words slipped slowly from Andrealphus’ lips, his eyes firmly locked on the Prince so that he could assess any reaction, “…as with a piece of machinery, all the little pieces play their part and have their use — however, some of those pieces are larger, more significant and harder to replace” It wasn’t prejudiced, it was simply a fact! Lowly imps had their use in doing things that Andrealphus didn’t want to do himself (like cook his food), however, they were easily replacable. If Vassago disappeared tomorrow then the world would tip out of balance. The lower you moved down the social hierarchy, the less you mattered. Andrealphus was acutely aware of how much less he mattered than people such as Vassago.

starter for the lovely @vassago-rp

The soft, demonic, glow of turquoise eyes reflected back at Andrealphus from the crystalline windows of his snow-covered mansion. An appreciative chirping trill hummed in his throat as he inspected his appearance — the substantial amount of time the marquis had spent preening in front of the mirror that morning had clearly paid off. There wasn’t a single feather out of place on his body. To others, his immaculate appearance was a sign of of his unconcealed vanity. Just the pompous theatrics of an attention hungry peacock. To Andrealphus, applying a delicate, subtle, swipe of eyeliner or adorning his body in luxurious silks and precious gems was the same as applying war paint and battle armour. Truth is, the bird would sooner be caught dead than poorly dressed. It was a power move. A weapon that could be weirded on the social battlefield. The icy-cold avian had found that social meetings were little more than a vicious battlefield, disguised as civility. The simple truth of the matter was that any minor misstep could damage your reputation — and there was nothing more important to most goetia than their reputation.

Thanks to his brain dead sister and her, tragically beautiful, bastard of a husband their reputation had been…on thin ice, so to speak. As the only member of his family who seemed capable of successfully utilising his intellect, it’d soon become his responsibility to oversee damage control. It was laborious. More than ever, the need to be perfect had began to weigh heavy as the diamond-encrusted tiara that sat atop his head.

The sound of the door handle squeaking softly snapped Andrealphus out of his thoughts — what an unpleasant noise. He really ought to get that damn thing replaced! The door swept open to reveal his guest of honour, Prince Vassago. The impish butler that had led the prince to the room bowed deeply before closing the door behind Vassago and fleeing to ready the tea. “Your majesty, I’m so glad you could make it~” there was a light-hearted ease within his words, the peacock bowing a little in a gesture of respect. Andrealphus then took a moment to allowed his eyes to linger on the prince’s appearance, the brilliant red feathers of the other man were vibrant against the backdrop of snow and ice. With a delicate sweep of his hand, Andrealphus gestured towards the table, two impish servants scurried to pull out chairs for both of the men, “Please, take a seat.”

[icecoldbitchbird]

Andrealphus was seated at his desk, his usually pristine posture hunched over as he poured over various sheets of parchment that were laid neatly out atop the hardwood. As a familiar voice spoke out to him, he merely held up a hand in a motion to demand silence and continued to let his turquoise eyes run down the paper. A moment or two passed in utter silence before, finally, he seemed to finish and place the paper atop the pristinely organised desk.

“Indeed, I do,” he confirmed with an ease, then flicking his icy gaze up and down her form with a soft frown, “…you really ought to get some nicer dresses, that does nothing for you, my dear,”

@icecoldbitchbird

Being summoned usually meant office work. Or some other chore. But nevertheless, it was still nerve-wracking to be asked to see her elder brother.

"You, er, wanted to see me?"

[icecoldbitchbird]

The haughty air of arrogance, all snide remarks and self-satisfied smirks, had slipped entirely from Andrealphus’ demeanour. Now, he was unreadable. A mask of pure, pensive, indifference resting on his features. Earlier, he’d had an unshakable focus on Stolas, his turquoise eyes analysing each little movement the Prince made. Now? his looks were far-off and aloof.

Anyone who had spent any prolonged period of time around Andrealphus in meetings would recognise his current look as the one that overtook him when he was thinking very deeply about something.

The peacock was slowly, but surely, beginning to wonder whether he was on the losing side of this battle. Familial loyalty dictated that he stand beside Stella and support her ambitions — however, if she were to lose this battle, and he’d stood by her side, then his reputation would take a hit too. But, the question remained whether his reputation would take a more significant hit if he turned against his own sister? Not if he had proof of her conspiring to kill the Prince, he supposed. Then turning against her would be justified…but could he really do it? Satan, he had a lot to think about.

As though pulled from his thoughts, Andrealphus suddenly glanced across at the owl — he arched one of his eyebrows softly at the words that Stolas had spoken, “Is that a threat, your highness?” he asked plainly, linking his hands easily behind his back.

“I don’t think there is,” Andrealphus allowed a perfectly practiced smile to quirk onto his lips as he gazed across at Stolas, “You’ve given me much to think about though, Stolas, Thank you.” There words were spoken in a manner where it was near impossible to get an accurate read on whether that was a good or entirely nefarious thing. Andrealphus liked it that way — better to leave people uncomfortable and guessing. “I think I can manage. I’ll shout if I get lost on the perilous journey to the next room,” I mean, really? How ridiculous. The meeting room was more-or-less directly next to the main hall. Andrealphus recognised a snide remark when he heard one, but still, it was just so unimaginative.

There was a subtle crack in Andrealphus’ prim facade at Stolas’ words regarding his flowers: the falter was no more than a flash of annoyance across his turquoise eyes and a slight grinding of his beak. HIS favourite? That bastard! Andrealphus did, exclusively, seek to warm his bed with the presence of other men but that was completely besides the point — it was different. Simply because he was smart enough to be discreet about it. Andealphus deepened the false smile that rested on his beak, “I’m touched that you know my floral preferences,” he noted in an airy tone clearly not talking about flowers anymore in spite of keeping up pretences, “…you must really pay attention. I’m not sure how you could know that, I’m rather well-versed in ensuring that my personal information remains…well, personal” The peacock allowed a beat to pass before he added, “…I suppose that must be difficult for you these days, what with the press hounding you.”

Andrealphus waved a hand delicately over his tea, cooling it a little before bringing it up to his beak to take a slow sip — he placed the tea-cup back on the table as he gazed across at Stolas. “Yes, yes…” he waved his hand as though dismissing the whole ‘assassination attempt’ thing. It was rather ridiculous. Andrealphus never would have sanctioned such an action had she spoken to him before proceeding.

Ah, there was that stubborn, firm, owl. It was just like that morning they had spent at that damn tea-shop…only, this time, Stella wasn’t around to fuck everything up. “Stolas, my dear, we both want the same things,” he began to explain, “when you were at the mercy of that mangy assassin stray that my sister employed, who do you think convinced her to call him off?” The point being: Stella might be the one that Stolas was splitting from, but Andrealphus was the power behind his sister.

The family portraits? No one gave a single shit about those. Financial aid? Fuck him. Of course they didn’t need fucking financial aid! They were incredibly wealthy. What a bitch. Andrealphus attempted not to scowl, but it was incredibly difficult. “This isn’t about the need for aid, it’s about compensation for the irreparable damage you’ve done to the familial reputation,” he explained, the bright false sense of joviality gone from his voice now.

“I’m glad you brought up our dear Octavia though,” he then mused, “because she is precisely what we need to talk about.”

[icecoldbitchbird]

“The honour would be mine, your highness,” the words were pleasant and polite, but given so easily under the assumption that the Prince was merely being equally pleasant and didn’t hold any genuine intent behind his words. After all, Vassago had endlessly more important things to be doing than listening to him play the piano. “I have a grand piano in my home, but I fear that you may not be able to hear the music over the chattering of your beak,” It had been very clear that they were accustomed to different climates.

Andrealphus was thankful when the waiters arrived with their food. Partially, because it swept the intense gaze of the prince off him and onto his risotto, but also, partly because it provided Andrealphus with a focus that was outside of answering the questions levelled to him in a manner that was acceptable. Grasping the silvered utensils with elegance, he slowly began to cut into his food, all the while idly paying attention to what the prince was saying.

Food was a worthwhile hobby. Fine-dining was enjoyable and, as evidenced by their current surroundings, there were social benefits to knowing the best spots for an impromptu lunch. Andrealphus had just brought a fork towards his beak when he paused, letting to drop down to his plate once more. “…cooking?” he repeated the word as though it were foreign to him, eyebrows furrowed deeply in a look of shock that he’d not successfully managed to hide. “…that is rather unheard of.”

Vassago was full of shocking surprises and contradictions. As far as he was concerned, most Goetia would rather be caught dead than in the kitchen — the peacock himself certainly fell into that category. Andrealphus began to wonder, belatedly, if he had the measure of the prince at all. “Is it not laborious?…and, well…messy?”

starter for the lovely @vassago-rp

The soft, demonic, glow of turquoise eyes reflected back at Andrealphus from the crystalline windows of his snow-covered mansion. An appreciative chirping trill hummed in his throat as he inspected his appearance — the substantial amount of time the marquis had spent preening in front of the mirror that morning had clearly paid off. There wasn’t a single feather out of place on his body. To others, his immaculate appearance was a sign of of his unconcealed vanity. Just the pompous theatrics of an attention hungry peacock. To Andrealphus, applying a delicate, subtle, swipe of eyeliner or adorning his body in luxurious silks and precious gems was the same as applying war paint and battle armour. Truth is, the bird would sooner be caught dead than poorly dressed. It was a power move. A weapon that could be weirded on the social battlefield. The icy-cold avian had found that social meetings were little more than a vicious battlefield, disguised as civility. The simple truth of the matter was that any minor misstep could damage your reputation — and there was nothing more important to most goetia than their reputation.

Thanks to his brain dead sister and her, tragically beautiful, bastard of a husband their reputation had been…on thin ice, so to speak. As the only member of his family who seemed capable of successfully utilising his intellect, it’d soon become his responsibility to oversee damage control. It was laborious. More than ever, the need to be perfect had began to weigh heavy as the diamond-encrusted tiara that sat atop his head.

The sound of the door handle squeaking softly snapped Andrealphus out of his thoughts — what an unpleasant noise. He really ought to get that damn thing replaced! The door swept open to reveal his guest of honour, Prince Vassago. The impish butler that had led the prince to the room bowed deeply before closing the door behind Vassago and fleeing to ready the tea. “Your majesty, I’m so glad you could make it~” there was a light-hearted ease within his words, the peacock bowing a little in a gesture of respect. Andrealphus then took a moment to allowed his eyes to linger on the prince’s appearance, the brilliant red feathers of the other man were vibrant against the backdrop of snow and ice. With a delicate sweep of his hand, Andrealphus gestured towards the table, two impish servants scurried to pull out chairs for both of the men, “Please, take a seat.”

[icecoldbitchbird]

There was little more that Andrealphus detested more in this world that being spoken down to. The peacock was endlessly prideful — it was the one trait that single-handedly led him into the most amount of trouble — he thought that he was smarter, more talented and more worthy than others that he met. The marquis had learnt an important lesson today: Stolas was not the weak little pushover that he’d spent years thinking he was. Andrealphus needed to tread with infinitely more caution.

Andrealphus would later deny the soft huff of relief that left his beak when Stolas transformed back into his usual form. Realistically, he knew that the Prince probably wouldn’t harm him, and if he did, then the paparazzi the marquis would pass on the way out would no doubt have an absolute field day publishing stories about the cruelty of the owl. Still, there was a small voice in the back of his mind that wondered if Stolas even cared.

The peacock settled behind the chair he’d earlier been sat on, resting his hands on the back of the chair as he gazed across at Stolas. “…I’ll take that on board for the future…” he noted, knowing fully well that he would not be stepping foot anywhere near Stolas in the foreseeable future without some kind of back up. The man was clearly cracked. Stress can do that to a person.

Andrealphus did everything within his power not to scowl at Stolas’ comment despite how much it pissed him off. Stella was just a pretty face with a wretched personality and mighty pair of lungs. Andrealphus was not just a pretty face — he was the smartest person in nearly every room he entered. The man didn’t much appreciate being told that his beauty was all he had in terms of useful qualities. Was now a bad time to point out that Stella had been feeding his daughter wild and viscous lies? Probably. Instead, he nodded shortly, the aloof mask of icy indifference back on his face, “I will see to it that, from our side of the proceedings, her voice is allowed to be heard.” Not that he could promise Stolas would like what he heard.

There was a subtle crack in Andrealphus’ prim facade at Stolas’ words regarding his flowers: the falter was no more than a flash of annoyance across his turquoise eyes and a slight grinding of his beak. HIS favourite? That bastard! Andrealphus did, exclusively, seek to warm his bed with the presence of other men but that was completely besides the point — it was different. Simply because he was smart enough to be discreet about it. Andealphus deepened the false smile that rested on his beak, “I’m touched that you know my floral preferences,” he noted in an airy tone clearly not talking about flowers anymore in spite of keeping up pretences, “…you must really pay attention. I’m not sure how you could know that, I’m rather well-versed in ensuring that my personal information remains…well, personal” The peacock allowed a beat to pass before he added, “…I suppose that must be difficult for you these days, what with the press hounding you.”

Andrealphus waved a hand delicately over his tea, cooling it a little before bringing it up to his beak to take a slow sip — he placed the tea-cup back on the table as he gazed across at Stolas. “Yes, yes…” he waved his hand as though dismissing the whole ‘assassination attempt’ thing. It was rather ridiculous. Andrealphus never would have sanctioned such an action had she spoken to him before proceeding.

Ah, there was that stubborn, firm, owl. It was just like that morning they had spent at that damn tea-shop…only, this time, Stella wasn’t around to fuck everything up. “Stolas, my dear, we both want the same things,” he began to explain, “when you were at the mercy of that mangy assassin stray that my sister employed, who do you think convinced her to call him off?” The point being: Stella might be the one that Stolas was splitting from, but Andrealphus was the power behind his sister.

The family portraits? No one gave a single shit about those. Financial aid? Fuck him. Of course they didn’t need fucking financial aid! They were incredibly wealthy. What a bitch. Andrealphus attempted not to scowl, but it was incredibly difficult. “This isn’t about the need for aid, it’s about compensation for the irreparable damage you’ve done to the familial reputation,” he explained, the bright false sense of joviality gone from his voice now.

“I’m glad you brought up our dear Octavia though,” he then mused, “because she is precisely what we need to talk about.”

[icecoldbitchbird]

There was a look of genuine, unmasked, surprise within Andrealphus’ eyes as the Prince laughed at his words. It wasn’t one of those polite, manufactures, laughs that were so commonly traded between Goetia — It was genuine.

It was, admittedly, unnerving to have so much of Vassago’s attention unwaveringly on him. It wasn’t that the peacock wasn’t accustomed to attention. Rather the contrary, Andrealphus was proud of his ability to turn heads by merely gliding into a room. However, that attention was superficial, an appreciation of beauty that cared not to unravel the man behind the icy gaze. Vassago had this uncanny ability to see more than what Andrealphus was trying to project.

“…since I was a old enough to reach the keys,” he noted after a brief moment of silence, unable and unwilling to place a specific number of years to his statement. He’d been sat at a piano for as long as he could remember — his mother had insisted in him being trained in all manner of attractive skills. Which would have been pleasant had these lessons not also come with the crushing weight of being the best in everything he set his mind to. “Mother insisted I learn and it stuck with me, I suppose…I see music much like mathematics,” he explained, “…there is a code, a secret language of symbols to crack, and there are processes that must be followed in order to achieve success…only, with music, there is a pleasant sound when you get the answer correct.”

“All manner of things,” was the simple reply that Andrealphus offered regarding his painting. Truth be told, there wasn’t a lot of could say without bearing too much of himself — To Andrealphus, painting was almost a rebellious act. He was a terrible painter. Always had been. The freeing feeling of doing something, knowing it was imperfect, but doing it all the same. It was almost as soothing as the repetitive stoke of paintbrush against canvas.

“But tell me, Vassago” he began in an attempt to steer the conversation firmly away from himself, “What do you do for fun?”

starter for the lovely @vassago-rp

The soft, demonic, glow of turquoise eyes reflected back at Andrealphus from the crystalline windows of his snow-covered mansion. An appreciative chirping trill hummed in his throat as he inspected his appearance — the substantial amount of time the marquis had spent preening in front of the mirror that morning had clearly paid off. There wasn’t a single feather out of place on his body. To others, his immaculate appearance was a sign of of his unconcealed vanity. Just the pompous theatrics of an attention hungry peacock. To Andrealphus, applying a delicate, subtle, swipe of eyeliner or adorning his body in luxurious silks and precious gems was the same as applying war paint and battle armour. Truth is, the bird would sooner be caught dead than poorly dressed. It was a power move. A weapon that could be weirded on the social battlefield. The icy-cold avian had found that social meetings were little more than a vicious battlefield, disguised as civility. The simple truth of the matter was that any minor misstep could damage your reputation — and there was nothing more important to most goetia than their reputation.

Thanks to his brain dead sister and her, tragically beautiful, bastard of a husband their reputation had been…on thin ice, so to speak. As the only member of his family who seemed capable of successfully utilising his intellect, it’d soon become his responsibility to oversee damage control. It was laborious. More than ever, the need to be perfect had began to weigh heavy as the diamond-encrusted tiara that sat atop his head.

The sound of the door handle squeaking softly snapped Andrealphus out of his thoughts — what an unpleasant noise. He really ought to get that damn thing replaced! The door swept open to reveal his guest of honour, Prince Vassago. The impish butler that had led the prince to the room bowed deeply before closing the door behind Vassago and fleeing to ready the tea. “Your majesty, I’m so glad you could make it~” there was a light-hearted ease within his words, the peacock bowing a little in a gesture of respect. Andrealphus then took a moment to allowed his eyes to linger on the prince’s appearance, the brilliant red feathers of the other man were vibrant against the backdrop of snow and ice. With a delicate sweep of his hand, Andrealphus gestured towards the table, two impish servants scurried to pull out chairs for both of the men, “Please, take a seat.”

[icecoldbitchbird]

Andrealphus had decided that he rather liked Eros; there was a warm and inviting atmosphere that had been created by the low, yet purposeful, lighting. Due to the virtue of the staff clearing knowing Vassago, and his lofty status, the Goetia had managed to bypass any unnecessary attention — which, although it might surprise those that deemed the peacock desperate for constant attention, pleased Andrealphus greatly.

The menu had all manner of delicious options that sparked interest in Andrealphus. However, a loyal lover of fish since childhood, it did not take him long to select the tuna steak, which he opted to pair with a Pinot Noir. When the drinks arrived, he swept the glass into his hand and took a slow sip. A soft sound somewhere between a coo and a hum resonated in his throat at the taste. It was delicious. The finest wine he’d had in a while. “Divine~” he mused, seemingly melting a little into his chair as he grew more comfortable around the Prince.

Andrealphus’ eyes widened subtly at Vassago’s words, a glimmer of surprise flickering through his eyes for a moment before he schooled his expression once more into one of practiced ease. He straightened his posture a little, sitting up straighter in his chair. This was all highly irregular. People did not care what Andrealphus did in his own time — in fact, he suspected they thought he did nothing. Just brooded and plotted evil schemes, perhaps. The real question was: what did the prince seek to gain by getting familiar with him? was there some kind of ulterior motive? No. Probably not, the prince was just seeking material for small talk. “Unfortunately, I was born with an extremely rare condition that makes me deathly allergic to fun,” he noted in an utterly deadpan manner, in spite of his words being an obvious joke. “I play the piano,” he then confided after a moment, supposing he would give the fuel for small talk, “…and I paint.”

starter for the lovely @vassago-rp

The soft, demonic, glow of turquoise eyes reflected back at Andrealphus from the crystalline windows of his snow-covered mansion. An appreciative chirping trill hummed in his throat as he inspected his appearance — the substantial amount of time the marquis had spent preening in front of the mirror that morning had clearly paid off. There wasn’t a single feather out of place on his body. To others, his immaculate appearance was a sign of of his unconcealed vanity. Just the pompous theatrics of an attention hungry peacock. To Andrealphus, applying a delicate, subtle, swipe of eyeliner or adorning his body in luxurious silks and precious gems was the same as applying war paint and battle armour. Truth is, the bird would sooner be caught dead than poorly dressed. It was a power move. A weapon that could be weirded on the social battlefield. The icy-cold avian had found that social meetings were little more than a vicious battlefield, disguised as civility. The simple truth of the matter was that any minor misstep could damage your reputation — and there was nothing more important to most goetia than their reputation.

Thanks to his brain dead sister and her, tragically beautiful, bastard of a husband their reputation had been…on thin ice, so to speak. As the only member of his family who seemed capable of successfully utilising his intellect, it’d soon become his responsibility to oversee damage control. It was laborious. More than ever, the need to be perfect had began to weigh heavy as the diamond-encrusted tiara that sat atop his head.

The sound of the door handle squeaking softly snapped Andrealphus out of his thoughts — what an unpleasant noise. He really ought to get that damn thing replaced! The door swept open to reveal his guest of honour, Prince Vassago. The impish butler that had led the prince to the room bowed deeply before closing the door behind Vassago and fleeing to ready the tea. “Your majesty, I’m so glad you could make it~” there was a light-hearted ease within his words, the peacock bowing a little in a gesture of respect. Andrealphus then took a moment to allowed his eyes to linger on the prince’s appearance, the brilliant red feathers of the other man were vibrant against the backdrop of snow and ice. With a delicate sweep of his hand, Andrealphus gestured towards the table, two impish servants scurried to pull out chairs for both of the men, “Please, take a seat.”

[icecoldbitchbird]

Oh, thank fuck. A sense of relief washed over him as the prince confirmed that his indiscretion had been forgiven. The air in front of his beak frosted into a wisp of mist as he let out a breath that he hadn’t realised he was holding — he was truly beginning to think that the wisest, most prudent, course of action would be to book a lengthy vacation and leave Stella to handle her own shit. Andrealphus could have sworn his feathers were losing their lustre due to the stress.

The peacock stood once more, taking a moment to brush his knees of the non-existent dirt that he seemed to think rested there. Andrealphus stared across at Vassago for a moment, taking in his shivering form: he really did so rarely have visitors, he’d forgotten how sensitive to the cold people could be. No doubt it was worse for Vassago. “Mm, I’m amenable to a change of scenery,” It hadn’t been the plan, but funnily enough, neither had been having to apologise profusely and humble himself before the prince.

“I-..” he began to speak, but was already faced with a portal that seemed to lead to Lust. Quickly grabbing his cloak and draping it over his shoulders, the peacock stepped through the portal. Holding a hand atop his head to shield himself from the light wash of rain, he followed close beside the prince.

Andrealphus seated himself gracefully at the table, arching an eyebrow upwards a little at Vassago’s words. “Well, I certainly won’t tell, if you don’t” he responded, the faintest glimmer of amusement in his turquoise eyes. Andrealphus certainly wouldn’t turn down something stronger than tea — he reached out to pick up a menu, scanning it while mentally wondering how he’d ended up sat getting lunch with Prince Vassago. What a whirlwind of a day.

starter for the lovely @vassago-rp

The soft, demonic, glow of turquoise eyes reflected back at Andrealphus from the crystalline windows of his snow-covered mansion. An appreciative chirping trill hummed in his throat as he inspected his appearance — the substantial amount of time the marquis had spent preening in front of the mirror that morning had clearly paid off. There wasn’t a single feather out of place on his body. To others, his immaculate appearance was a sign of of his unconcealed vanity. Just the pompous theatrics of an attention hungry peacock. To Andrealphus, applying a delicate, subtle, swipe of eyeliner or adorning his body in luxurious silks and precious gems was the same as applying war paint and battle armour. Truth is, the bird would sooner be caught dead than poorly dressed. It was a power move. A weapon that could be weirded on the social battlefield. The icy-cold avian had found that social meetings were little more than a vicious battlefield, disguised as civility. The simple truth of the matter was that any minor misstep could damage your reputation — and there was nothing more important to most goetia than their reputation.

Thanks to his brain dead sister and her, tragically beautiful, bastard of a husband their reputation had been…on thin ice, so to speak. As the only member of his family who seemed capable of successfully utilising his intellect, it’d soon become his responsibility to oversee damage control. It was laborious. More than ever, the need to be perfect had began to weigh heavy as the diamond-encrusted tiara that sat atop his head.

The sound of the door handle squeaking softly snapped Andrealphus out of his thoughts — what an unpleasant noise. He really ought to get that damn thing replaced! The door swept open to reveal his guest of honour, Prince Vassago. The impish butler that had led the prince to the room bowed deeply before closing the door behind Vassago and fleeing to ready the tea. “Your majesty, I’m so glad you could make it~” there was a light-hearted ease within his words, the peacock bowing a little in a gesture of respect. Andrealphus then took a moment to allowed his eyes to linger on the prince’s appearance, the brilliant red feathers of the other man were vibrant against the backdrop of snow and ice. With a delicate sweep of his hand, Andrealphus gestured towards the table, two impish servants scurried to pull out chairs for both of the men, “Please, take a seat.”

[icecoldbitchbird]

The snowy peacock was not used to people speaking so firmly to him. Usually people would either join the senseless song and dance that he performed, words thick with double meaning and hidden ploys, or they would simply be completely oblivious to whatever schemes he was playing. It was exceptionally rare for someone to both notice the full extent of his motives and actually address it to his face. Andrealphus allowed his jaw to clench tightly shut, bowing his head a little and staring off at the floor while he allowed the Prince to assert his station above him — he looked tense. Granted, his posture was always rigid as stone, but this was something less rehearsed and more instinctive. Less grandiose and more like he wished to curl into a ball and hide. He felt small. Memories dancing across his mind of the endless occasions he were scolded by his mother as a young peachick. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.

If you told anyone about what happened in the room next, they would likely laugh and call you a liar. Andrealphus would, no doubt, absolutely deny it too. However, the infamously arrogant marquis stood up from his chair and physically took the knee in front of Vassago. A delicate hand came to rest over his chest as he completed the deep bow — a mark of respect and submission that he hoped would be accepted. “Please accept my deepest and most sincere apologies, Prince Vassago” he managed to, more or less, speak the words without faltering, in spire of the massive knock to his ego, “…in my desperation to aid my sister, I have allowed myself to lose sight of my position.”

There was a redness to his cheeks that burned in the cold of the room. For Andrealphus, this was a monumentally humbling act, but it would be far worse for him if the Prince were to storm out of his mansion angry and with a poor opinion of him. Andrealphus raised his turquoise gaze from the floor to look up at the prince, “If you would do me the honour of giving me a second chance,” he paused for a moment, “I am certain there are far less troubling topics of conversation that I could entertain you with.” It defeated the whole purpose of why he’d invited Vassago in the first place, but he was desperately keen to amend his mistake.

starter for the lovely @vassago-rp

The soft, demonic, glow of turquoise eyes reflected back at Andrealphus from the crystalline windows of his snow-covered mansion. An appreciative chirping trill hummed in his throat as he inspected his appearance — the substantial amount of time the marquis had spent preening in front of the mirror that morning had clearly paid off. There wasn’t a single feather out of place on his body. To others, his immaculate appearance was a sign of of his unconcealed vanity. Just the pompous theatrics of an attention hungry peacock. To Andrealphus, applying a delicate, subtle, swipe of eyeliner or adorning his body in luxurious silks and precious gems was the same as applying war paint and battle armour. Truth is, the bird would sooner be caught dead than poorly dressed. It was a power move. A weapon that could be weirded on the social battlefield. The icy-cold avian had found that social meetings were little more than a vicious battlefield, disguised as civility. The simple truth of the matter was that any minor misstep could damage your reputation — and there was nothing more important to most goetia than their reputation.

Thanks to his brain dead sister and her, tragically beautiful, bastard of a husband their reputation had been…on thin ice, so to speak. As the only member of his family who seemed capable of successfully utilising his intellect, it’d soon become his responsibility to oversee damage control. It was laborious. More than ever, the need to be perfect had began to weigh heavy as the diamond-encrusted tiara that sat atop his head.

The sound of the door handle squeaking softly snapped Andrealphus out of his thoughts — what an unpleasant noise. He really ought to get that damn thing replaced! The door swept open to reveal his guest of honour, Prince Vassago. The impish butler that had led the prince to the room bowed deeply before closing the door behind Vassago and fleeing to ready the tea. “Your majesty, I’m so glad you could make it~” there was a light-hearted ease within his words, the peacock bowing a little in a gesture of respect. Andrealphus then took a moment to allowed his eyes to linger on the prince’s appearance, the brilliant red feathers of the other man were vibrant against the backdrop of snow and ice. With a delicate sweep of his hand, Andrealphus gestured towards the table, two impish servants scurried to pull out chairs for both of the men, “Please, take a seat.”