#[muse] azarius

[cavernovs]

Azar 📲 Freyja

Azarius: I was told you didn't choke on yesterday's rations.

Azarius: It's a shame. I'll make sure not to make the mistake of giving the job someone incapable next time.

[cavernovs]

hauntedlyxcrooked​:

Location: Circus of Khaos

Time: 12:00 am

@crookedsoulsstarters

Kalto never ventured this far after dusk, knowing what lurked in the dark. But an opportunity like this didn’t come around to often, to study the dark in such proximity. The night air was bitter, enough to chill his fingers. He blew into his hands hoping the temperature of his breath would warm his hands some. He looked to the other beside him who was waiting to enter “What are you doing first? I’m not to sure myself.”

-

There’s an unpleasantness about the circus that bothers Azarius; he’s never met Khaos - not even caught a glimpse of the ghost that haunts the carnival as his own. It’s something different, sure, a new way to lure in the unsuspecting; the elders and the youths that crave to find something that sparks their immortal hearts to life and has that rarity to surprise where the world struggles to fulfil that in the minds of most; a long existence destroying that keen sensation of something new and replaced with: I’ve seen this all before. Azarius has seen the circus before; just not Khaos, not the man behind the shrouds of colour that stain the Haven with its arrival.

And the only thing that keeps Azarius from wanting to tickles flames at the fabric rumbling like a woken beast under the stress of the wind is the prospect her may land eyes on the man that seems to allude them all; exists but yet, nobody knows what he is; what makes him a powerful entity on the plain of Crooked and no soul knows why. 

A voice comes quickly, friendly in its manner - closer than Azar would deem safe for anyone courageous enough to strike up conversation with him. And slowly, the demon lolls his head to one side to turn attention to the stranger, a prickle of some kind of magic in the veins of the other but Azarius isn’t looking for it. Doesn’t intend to brush magics right now with anyone; not without some provocation first. 

Doesn’t mean he’s all that amused by the other’s question. 

“Have you met Khaos?” it’s an inquiry that spurs from the other’s, “Because whatever you decide to do in there first doesn’t matter, he’s rumoured to guide you to the last,” he doesn’t care for it to be a warning; isn’t there to provide wake-up calls to the other where he’d rather burn holes where his eyes sockets are, but he does use it to accompany the twisted grin that tugs at the edge of his lips; eyes that darken to contrast the whites of ivories. Adds on: “Brave of a mortal to risk it,”

[shiverrinqs]

✵ || dealer's choice... ily...

Send ✵ and my muse will answer the following.  

Their first impression of your muse:  Ezekiel first met Azarius  during Halloween and his impression of him was mean-spirited. 

Current impression:   Ezekiel probably feels the same way about the other, they haven't had a run-in since then. But a part of him thinks he should be more cautious around the other, 

Are they attracted to your muse?:  Is he attracted to him? No, but he’s a good looking man. Ezekiel  is sure he could find someone attracted to  him and the danger he possesses.

Something they find frightening about your muse:  Can he say / Azarius  in general is frightening. He was one of the first demons he met so he really doesn't; have much to compare with. The exception being Jahi but there is something about the other presence that both is oddly curious/ fascinating but equal parts terrifying 

Something they find adorable about your muse: Does he do adorable? Ezekiel doesn’t think so and if he does, he couldn’t name something adorable about the other.   

Would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?:   That is tricky, Ezekiel  is never one to put himself above other, willing to help anyone even if it’s to he own determent. Something tells him Azarius  doesn’t need him to sacrifice himself to save him but if Ezekiel  thought it would help he would? He do it for anyone really.

Would my muse go on a date with yours?  platonic/romantic:  Ezekiel  doesn’t drink and romantically Azarius  isn’t his type. But he wouldn’t mind going out for drinks with the other. To get to know them better he’s sure there is a story there and he would be genuinely interested in hearing it. 

One word my muse would use to describe yours:  peculiar

Would my muse slap yours if they could?: 

No, more than likely not. not because he couldn’t but more so if he can settle something non violently he’ll do that first. 

Would my muse hug/kiss yours?:  Does Azarius  need a hug? Ezekiel  doesn’t mind giving someone a hug if they want one but again Azarius  doesn’t strike him the type that needs or wants a hug. 

[deathbeckons]

talk about us - Lan x Azagi, obviously

Send me “talk about us” and my muse will tell your muse...

What they define their relationship with your muse as:

He’s her boyfriend, they’re in a relationship and whilst she doesn’t believe he will stick around completely she’ll be committed until he’s the one that fucks up... Maybe. 

Something they like about your muse:

She probably liked his personality at some point in her long life time, but her focus now is his physique and she’s not afraid to admit it. When he was nice to her, she likes his personality too because he can be a sweetheart it just... doesn’t last as long as she’d want.

Something they dislike about your muse:

The manipulation, and the way he manages to break her down mentally and emotionally when he really sets his claws in and his true colours come out. 

Their first impression of your muse:

She thought he was the extremely attractive, but not only that she felt like they had very similar interests and goals. They enabled each other, and he let her be her. She loved it and fell for him faster than she’d care to admit. 

Their impression of your muse now:

She still finds him attractive, the attraction is still there and despite everything she knows the love is too. He’s a fucking dick when he wants to be though. She hates it. Hates that part of him but he scares her. 

How they feel about your muse: 

She isn’t as terrified of him and his reactions as she used to be, but that’s only because she’s come across someone much more terrifying. He still scares her, yet despite that she also still loves him. He’s the only semi-consistent thing in her life and she’ll cling to him for as long as he’ll keep coming back.

Something they are hiding from your muse:

That she fucked Jack and Lylia whilst he wasn’t around, and what happened with Azarius.

Something they wish they could to tell your muse:

What happened with Azarius, but she knows he wouldn’t do anything about it and she’d likely only get the blame. 

[shctteredillusions]

Name: Alkestis Muse Relation: Mother of Hanae, Ex-wife of Dionysus Age/birthday: 2466 / Born in 448 BC Parents: Azarius and Thyone Hair: Black Eyes: Blue Height: 5′8 Orientation: Pansexual Tags: Side Character ; Alkestis

Bio: Alkestis was once a mere mortal, living in Greece during the time of the Plague of Athens. As just a child, she had met a boy named Dionysus, the two grew close and as they grew up, the had fallen in love. Though Alkestis was one of the few lucky survivors of the plague, Dionysus wasn’t. He and his mother both died and Alkestis mourned the loss of the one she loved. But little did she know that the father Dionysus had left behind couldn’t leave things as they were.

Dionysus and his mother Bryony were brought back from the dead, a bargain made by his father Aristotle only to become the first two Vυχτοπερπατητής (nychtoperpatitís) in existence, or more commonly known as vampires today. After her initial fear of his resurrection, Alkestis eventually accepted him once more and allowed him to turn her as well causing her to become the second changed (but still Pureblood) vampire ever created. Over the centuries, she watched the changes that began to show within her husband and couldn’t remain with him any longer.

She eventually left him, this setting Dio even further into his downward spiral. After she spent most of her life just simply going from one place to the next, no real destination in mind until she met another Pureblood by the name of Hidaka Yamazaki. He had charmed his way straight to her heart in the same fashion that Dio had and it didn’t take long before she found out she was pregnant. Revealing the child to come to Hidaka, he came clean about all that he had been hiding from her.

From his position among the clans to the fact that he was already married with two children of his own, the fact that the two of them could never be and that he could never be a part of his soon to be daughters life. In a fit of rage, she cursed the man before breaking his neck and leaving. She raised Hanae up to be a proper girl, living a rather peaceful and happy life just the two of them.

[frvddiemercury]

i know everyone always thinks their muses are the best things in the world but when i say azarius is an angel i genuinely mean it.. he's so fucking.. iconic. like he's the best character i've ever written but also i'm so in love with him just as a concept?? he's so pure and like.... has so much to him. everytime i look at his pin board i cry because he's so.. im so in love with him. he's just an angel.. and i cry to @receking every single day about it but i just love him so much..

[cavernovs]

Azarius 📲 Azagi

Azarius: You're a weak link.

Azarius: And it'll never change.

[cavernovs]

PROMPT: “Do you know what a gunshot wound feels like?” MUSES: A.Cyprian & F.Carter / @oftragxdy​

Stupid question. Even more stupid a creature asking it. There wasn’t a way he dared think she wasn’t travelling down the path of insanity with the inquisitiveness – maybe this was it, broken entirely; driven mad. Fragile little things. Worthless, mostly. He always told Jahi they broke like twigs. Freyja had never been different. Only flesh harbouring a soul that would taste divine when threatening to shatter to pieces under his thumb. One day, he knew that he would pluck it from her; watch as her beady eyes sunk back and ennewed his with a powerful glint that sparked flames in their depths.

“Why – ?” an answer he didn’t much care for as much as it opened her up to: “ – are you curious to learn?”

Too quick for her. A contraption proven to be testy at best. Azarius liked to feel his own hands inflict, not pull triggers of lazy metal creations to offer a fast end to life with one unsatisfying bang.

But he’d been shot – countless times. Even the demon that most of his own feared wore bullet holes as scars, though, only when silveriron was loaded into their chambers did they do anything but impale in the layers of hard skin, quickly pushed out by smoke and ash when Azar would dust those wasting energy to fire at him at all.

So did he know what it felt like? Sure. Like an inconvenience and a soul wasted when he made an awful mess of the shooter.

A wide smile bore down at her, his stature at full rise and a disinterested shake of his head at the proposition Freyja thought she’d be granted the mercy of that kind of death if she wanted to rebel against him. In her state, in his domain; against him. How foolish could one mortal be? 

A sound only befitting a demon rumbled from his lips, half a chuckle, half a threat that bound itself to the warning that he expected her to recognise in his tone, something low – near hissed:

“Will you shoot me, Freyja?” That was the implication, or the threat she’d given him, undoubtedly. The grin stayed.

Imagine if you ever dared try, mortal.

And then imagine what will happen when you fail.

[cavernovs]

Azar📲 Jahi

Azarius: Six.

Azarius: That's how many minutes you have before you become the latest anatomy project.

Azarius: You'll get to live seven if you answer quickly.

[cavernovs]

PROMPT: V: “I’m gonna need a human skull and I can't have you ask any questions why.” A: “Only if you also don't ask why,” pulls out seven pristine human skulls “Take your pick”. V: “This one is fine” MUSES: A.Cyprian & V.Ceron / @deathbeckons​

He’d thought he’d been without the pursuit of dreaming, a strange phenomenon that the demon had never had a real experience with. However, if it were anything like fantasising – as described by an estranged monk, once. This was rather close to it. Mostly, the soulbarterer remembered the way cartilage sinewed desperately when it fought off flames and how glorious the sight of cornea dripping down inverted cheeks looked. That hadn’t been simply imagined.

Who would have such a sick mind without first finding it out firsthand?

Valeria’s casual request for skulls surfaced an abundance of fantasies that somehow had Azarius playing this faux coy.

He offered the skulls, graciously – kindly. Allowed her the sweet privilege of entertaining him with something other than the mindless screams that drew louder as he stepped down the Underground’s lengthy tunnels, the Central (like its name, the crossroads of it all) dank enough and wet with fresh entrails.

“Would you like to decorate it with a gall bladder – perhaps wear intestines as a boa whilst you do?”

This time, it wasn’t simply just a kind suggestion.

[cavernovs]

BET.

Location: The Reception / Royal Wedding, Part 2. Time: … It’s Underwater, who tf knows. Closed for: @deathbeckons​ 

It’s strange; the beneath. Whilst the cold of the underground tunnels that form the Dominion are as welcoming to Azarius as a hand striking pain is to any mortal in his wake. The ocean of the Forgotten is a warmth that would usually be found unpleasant – but he chalks it down to the thrum of a song in his ears; in the distance, a kind of lull that the demon knows everything it means, but has to remain with his wits to prevent succumbing too deeply to its pull; a siren’s song. As dangerous as any hellfire forged and a lot more powerful considering he stands in their domain, brought their knowingly by the shift in power in the merfolk rulers.

Azar’s found the situation almost like an opportunity.

And Azagi’s the accidental part of that, because what’s deadlier than a clueless innocent making demon deals without realising how fast they condemn themselves to the fire? Another demon making bets than border deals that solidify something a little more harsher than just the generic cry for riches; first one to succeed… Azagi, you’ve no idea what you’ve set yourself up to fail for.

The one thing that hinders him – in fact, every demon that’s attended the wedding, is that where fire is their element, the water around them prohibits even the hottest of flames from manifesting for more than half a second before it’s washed out and left the sea around them fizzling where the black flames made short-lived bubbles and died. It’s found to be a blessing that Azarius (and probably Azagi herself) haven’t come unarmed.

“I hope you don’t favour all the ribs of that meatsack, Az, because I will drag a knife down your back and snap every one of them in one go,” he mutters, glass in hand, swills it with this slight interest to how the gravity of the Forgotten works; that the drinks aren’t simply … blended into the waters; a concoction he imagines is exclusive to the Mer people. There’s no denying that the last time Azar and Azagi were beside one another, it was different circumstances. 

Bygones be bygones though, hm? Azarius calls their past interaction fun.

“You sure you want to play this game?” he asks again with a grin of satisfaction, lifts his hand up, his palm outstretched towards her; a glint in his eyes about how serious he wants to make the bet. Want to seal this bet with blood? Leaves no room for backing out then. Almost childish to participate into, but with deadly consequences if ignored. What else is their to do at one of the most important Merfolk events of the century? “I know you’ve got a knife on you, so make it into a deal with me,”

[cavernovs]

Location: Elysium Circus Lobby Event: Plot drop Uno | Murder Mystery Hunt Open for: All ya creatures.

When a wave of heat ripples through a room, becomes too noticeable to even a monster like Azarius. There develops a sensation of displeasure; a feeling that prickles against flesh like sandpaper that itches the demon to his core. It’s not magical, that’s not enough to cause the stoic expression that stays fixated to his features, because the room itself is cold. It’s the internal heat of each living thing that he shares a room with – each soul he could so easily pluck from a person – though, knows the demonic laws that bind that deal.

Azar stands against a wall, plays ignorant to the many worried faces that begin deciphering the metal numbers on the box that garners most of the room’s attention. His thoughts lie on the spelled wall behind him, the internal flames that house more than just a little darkness produce the familiar almost feverish heat that he presses against the gaudy wallpaper, feels the strength of the power returned from the wall where the harder he forces his own magics, the harsher kind forces his hand back with a snap.

It’s a momentary frustration, dark eyes sliding upwards to the overheard voices to see if anyone else, another creature had been anymore successful – unlikely.

A sneer curves at the corner of the demon’s mouth, fingers clicking easily with anticipation that something beyond his knowledge is roaming the walls of the building – it’s enough to at least prevent him from setting the room aflame for the sake of slicing the boredom in half and sending it to a path of amusement.

So, there’s a different, more beneficial strategy: “Some powerful souls floating about,” he muses to the wandering nearest him, pauses for some dramatic effect when those eyes catch corners of mortals with every kind of pre-broken and ruined entities to trade. “those are skeleton keys into that box, so, got one to offer?”

[cavernovs]

Sh*ttalking Slaughtering AKA Dem’s a D*ck

Location: The Slaughter Ring | The Haven Time: Time to kick Demitri’s ass Closed for: @eternallyxcrooked​ Continued from: HERE

If there’s anything fuelling Azar's energy into obliterating the moronic nightchild, it was the fact he is standing in the ring at all. He’s scowling at the petty level he’s fallen to and the demon is happy to make a public example of the vampire. The roar of voices are loud overhead, jeering for blood to be spilt on damp sand; stained an already hideous shade of maroon, clumped in places where mortal blood has coagulated and no less than solidified the grains to crunch underneath Azar’s boots. It’s a similar sound that’s reflective of bone. A cracking that sharpens senses and encourages the soulbarterer to recreate them in the form of the vampire’s brittle ivory. A simmer of heat bubbles beneath the layer of skin he wears and the stale scent of death lingers in nostrils and where normally he enjoys it; Demitri emanating it in waves isn’t how he likes it. Nikolai at ringside is probably more correct than he wants to believe; his desire to render the other man defeated is likely to back Azarius' reputation that he shouldn't be challenged in the ring by anyone, even if he is somewhat recovering from the idiotic low level demon that had fallen before him. And yet, the demonic death serves purpose; weakness never prevails. 

Shaking his head at the ruses, the demon smiles; tugged upwards by volatility and unprovoked by the other guy's childish jeering. Azar’s head tips knowingly, recalling their last encounter and its chaotic nature; he thinks the vampire is too confident in his abilities and that will be his downfall. It'd be too easy if that’s the case. If the man didn't want to talk, Azar would happily show the bloodsucker that there was a lot more to him than talk. Though, despite the irritation he holds for Demitri’s existence, his tone ricochets indifference around the ring: "I think a low ranking demon death has provided you with some misplaced confidence, young vampire." Azar notes, watching the legs of the creature move with pace. It’s another kind of amusing, the scratching of the others feet against ground glass is strangely comforting.

And he knows what’s coming. 

Azarius doesn't counter the attack, instead, a flush movement where he vanishes into a mist of smoke; a darkness flurry of fog that would choke the living if too near; it travels a few metres out of arm’s length and then twists to be tangible again. Almost like a ghostly manifestation, untouchable; on both sides and takes form again. Azarius glances back down to the beheaded demon that sinks to dust in the distance of the ring; pitiful really, the lesser demon forgotten to soft ash that would become part of the sands they now dance upon. He isn’t going to let Demitri believe he’s the immortal he thinks he is. Will not allow such a creature to play conduit to death without truly earning it; the once human man believing he’s something of the Gods that not even Azarius would ever match up against. But until teeth tear flesh, the demon is happy to play. 

First, a toying toss of flames; palm sized thrown like a game of catch in the vampire's direction. "Why don't you dance for me, nightchild?" he teases; a low hiss caught on the back-end of the tone; the only indication that there’s something a little more than a game at play in the ring. Because where nobody had to perish on the sands; Azarius doesn’t care if Demitri does. 

By the demon’s hand; even more fun. 

[cavernovs]

Famili-f*cking-arity

Location: Hell’s Too Nice/HTN | The Outerworld Time: Again, let’s wing this rn; s’all an Illusion.  Closed for: @fallenariel​

There’s familiarity tinged in the air; Halfway’s usually formidable for it, the prominent aroma of carcinogenic cigarettes linger in the atmosphere; hooked in by constant regeneration of exposed tobacco; its heated leaves that burn stains into the ceiling and welcome new patrons as they bypass the sweaty door that thick smoke navigates and escapes from. It’s haphazard in its method, following the scientific laws of diffusion and how it swarms to fill each empty crevasse; spreads white wings of mist to swallow bodies in its choking hold. 

How ironic. 

Azarius’ lip ticks upwards at its corner, amused by the thought of white wings strangling anything amongst the whitewash of lit straights and how sickening it would be to have something so holy in a place so eaten by sin. The demon knows that there’s no such thing close, for there’s no heavy dampener dragging his shoulders down and threatening to floor him with invisible weights; the same kind that would claw beneath his collar and spill internal fluids down his front to drip to the ground in a pool; there’s nothing holy near, because Azar wouldn’t sit idle at the bar if there was anything screaming power that penetrated his own; Angelics be fucking damned. .

Something dark sits at the base of Azarius’ glass, it’s thick like syrup; glues easily to the side of the cup and where the demon twists his wrist, it’s a slow sludge-like movement from within. There’s a spark prickling fire at the ends of fingertips, heating the heavy substance, it’s deep amber hue lighting a response, loosening its chemical binds and forcibly splitting it to a more drinkable liquid; something the demon can appreciate beyond its natural form; a sap that offers similar properties to even the most potent of alcohols; the illegal kind found only at HTN where Azarius could both trade souls, get a drink and watch barbarity under one roof. Every illicit activity brushed off to the corner of the desolate world, made better by the vices that monsters could partake in; make mortals do what even the most shameless of succubi would; a hell that’s all but a playground for the creatures that chased pandemonium. Every form, crammed to the corner of the known habitable and played out like a game. 

And he’s sat on a bar stool, nursing a drink whilst he listens on to the carnage in his vicinity. There’s no wiping the smirk off his face as he hears it play out, puts images to the sounds at his rear and can form close copies in his mind about who might die and who’ll come back to join some lowlife ranks of the lesser creatures. 

Because it’s not only smoke that permeates the breathable air; it’s another kind that Azarius has an affinity for; death, in every form. It sits there, shallow in amongst natural infections and laced in the obvious sting of magic as it brushes up against Azar’s own, like a warning that reminds him that he’s not the only apex predator in such confined quarters. Keeps a dagger held against his throat that reminds him to keep wary of his own potential mortality - neutral ground or not, the rules and the proclaimed laws can be too easily bent or broken. 

Azarius also has an intolerance for most of the population of the entire realm, so the fact he’s essentially gathered an unannounced semi-circle of space around him is almost like nobody is intoxicated enough to overstep to cross that barrier or even then, the demon’s reputation precedes him. 

Until some fucker sits on the empty one next to him and another too familiar prickle washes over the hairs on his arms and encourages the flames beneath the surface of flesh to erupt. But he instead gives the stranger a moment to realise his mistake and uses the glass as a prop to justify the pause in acknowledgement. The clatter of the glass on the barside a few moments later is signal enough that: Times up, cunt, move. A scratch of nails against the glass, a chalkboard effect that has Azarius slowly twisting his head to the other, a flash that’s incited another kind of familiarity in the form of disbelief and confusion. He’s refusing to voice that; neglecting to let his facial features admit to the other than he’d been caught off-guard by it. 

But he knows and the only thing that tells him he’s wrong is the way he’s not unceremoniously being deprived of power just for being in the others mans presence; by process of elimination, it didn’t leave all that many options; Azarius recognises power similar to his own, and the guy beside him never before possessed it - not at least when the demon last encountered him. “Long way from home, aren’t you?” he remarks, fingers pausing on the glass to cup it with growing amusement - he could allow the agitation to settle in before he permitted that fire to explode like a shockwave from his being; some things he could temper; it mostly depended on the other’s actions. 

And if he got the fuck off that bar stool. 

So he can’t help but inquire with some hostility finally breaking through his tone; bitten; a sharpness that cuts through that heavy smoke screen between them: “You didn’t fall on your way in did you?” 

[cavernovs]

Sh*ttalking Slaughtering

VIOLENCE TW, BLOOD TW

Location: The Slaughter Ring | The Haven Closed for: @oftragxdy  Continued HERE

Azarius

Azarius leans over the ringside, the heavy stoneware broken and chipped along its rim. Streaks of red and black coat the inner walls of the metal and stone; sharp wires and spikes adorn the edges of the circle and provide a very slow end for anyone intending to run. That can't exactly be promised in the ring, either though. 

The demon is enjoying the fight that’s happening some feet below in the pit they considered the arena. Just as flames erupt from the centre of the sandy field, the demon's attention is stolen: "Azarius," the voice earns his ire. Nikolai  

"Hm?" the demon murmurs in some disinterested annoyance. Azar's eyes don’t waver from the warfare below him, nor did any of the eyes that are gathered around the raised stone platforms, eagled-eyed to relish in the bloodshed. The vampire within the ring lands a bite into the opposing demon's shoulder. Foolish immortal. It’s instinctive and when Nikolai's huff from behind becomes too much, Azar finally shoots him a look. "Are you going to say why you're here?" he demands, expecting something important to have come up for his only, slightly-ally-like necromancer companion to be pestering him at the slaughter ring. 

"I bet you could wipe the floor with anyone in that ring, Az." the toying grin on the man's features is enough to earn a scorning glare from the demon. Before Azarius can even respond or cut in some sideways remark about him wasting his time. Nik continues: "Because that demon is about to lose his -" head, the same moment Azarius spins around to see the glory of blood spilling and pooling all over the sands is the simutaneous moment a roar erupts from the crowd and the head of the demon is within the vampire's grasp, fangs bared in bloodied victory. Azar is least impressed with that. "I fucking hate vampire." he mutters with gritted teeth, debating for a second to jump into the pit purely out of disappointment for his own species; shameful, to lose to a vampire.

Demitri 

Demitri clenched his jaw as he dodged the Demon's attack. It was humorous, really. This Demon thinking he could best a vampire. The other supernatural wasn't even doing that well and yet, here he was, still trying to come after the vampire. "Aw, what's wrong little guy? Sad that you're losing?" Demitri mocked the demon with a smile. "You should have thought long and hard about coming into this pit with me." A chuckle escaped his lips. "You do realize that I never lose, right?" At that, Demitri sped forward with his inhuman speed and used his nails to dig deep into the Demon's neck and then he ripped his nails out, dragging it along the other's skin. He watched as the head lolled to the side before dropping clear off. Demitri smiled as he took a step back and glanced around at the crowd. "Anyone else here to challenge me?" His voice boomed. "Maybe another weak Demon, perhaps?" He taunted, catching eye of a Demon he actually knew. Azarius.

Azarius

A long sigh escapes Azarius' lips as he watches the demon's body slump to the ground, the head between the vampire's clawed hand. He refrains from setting Nikolai aflame for being a know-it-all; his sense of death was uncanny and he could see it coming for most people a mile off - supernatural or not. "Why don't you go raise that headless imbecile, Nik." Azar grunts with some ice in his tone, his fingertips brush along the rough side of the slaughter ring. Azar's eyes honing in on the victor; suddenly too familiar. 

The wry smile is quick to form on his lips and he wonders if his evening is about to get a little better. He'd enjoy tearing the vampire limb from limb; that would be quite the evening. It’s as though his necromancer ally can read his thoughts when he speaks: "If you chose to pit one fight, you have to go the rest of the length, Az." obviously unfazed by the previous taunt. "I hear a specific human is on offer for the champion..." it is purposeful words, Azarius knew exactly what silver-tongue Nikolai possesses and he also knows that he would want the human long after Azar is done playing with it; soul stolen or not. 

A low grumble breaks from the demon's lips and he stands up straight. Trash talking is a little below him but he glimpses back to Nikolai with an even more amused grin, wondering how the necromancer would fare in the ring. "You know that vampire is a dead man walking." Azarius has never seen Nikolai in the pits, nor has he seen him much interact with vampire past the few passings at the haven. But Azar knew that manipulating the dead had loopholes. 

Nikolai is fast to shut down Azar’s taunts: "That's an illegal challenge and you know it, Azarius." his tone is hushed; knowing for the consequence of a necromancer in the ring with an already dead opponent. Reluctantly, the demon rolls his eyes and choses not to argue with his cowardly companion. "You used to love breaking rules." he jibes to his ally before vaulting over the jagged edges of the ring and onto the sands across from Demitri; a wicked grin on his features when he greets the other male: "Hello again, nightchild."

Demitri

Demitri watched as Azarius talked with another male but Dem had never seen them before. He assumed it was the Demon's confidant. He could be wrong. He knew that. But it was a pretty valid assumption on his part, considering how chatty the two of them seemed to be. He waited patiently -- well, as patiently a vampire could -- as the Demon made up his mind. Maybe he'd choose to not come down into the pit and fight? If not, he'd look like a coward in Demitri's eyes and he'd make sure Azarius never let it down. If he did come down, however, he'd show the Demon what species was more superior. Vampires. A smirk formed on the vampire's lips as he watched the Demon vault over the jagged edges of the ring, landing in the sand in front of him. "Aw, you remembered me. How cute." Demitri chided with a smile. "As I predicted, you Demon's didn't learn your lesson when your friend here met his demise." Demitri motioned towards the demon he had just beheaded. "Any last words, Azarius?"

Azarius

The demon didn't often partake in public speculation of brutality. When he thought about it, he probably wouldn't mind that in the slightest. Though, he enjoys the intimate tortures that could be inflicted - sometimes, those were best experienced in private. What he could do in this instance, is stop Demitri from tarnishing the demon name because some lesser demon made a mistake and the vampire got lucky. He’s still wondering how illegal throwing Nikolai into the ring would have been - necromancers were forbidden to participate against undead, or dead-made opponents - for obvious reasons. Nik could revoke all those magiks with a swipe of his hand and the fight would be over. A power that only few like his ally Nikolai possessed; it also didn't earn him a barrage of undead friends. Someone like the two of them weren't keen on friends either.

Azarius takes a warning step closer, intends to decimate the creature in front of him quickly - and with approval of the ravenous crowd. "I put you on the list of bitches I'll let the lessers fuck in the Dominion," Azarius murmurs with little interest in the whole back and forth. The crowd didn't need riling up anymore, the ones interested enough to tune their hearing picked it up anyways. 

Azar lifts his head, flickers in and out of smoke teasingly as he approaches the vampire, he makes sure he understands the kind of challenge that he's just subjected himself too. They didn't necessarily have to kill one another, rendering the opponent near-dead and defeated is enough. The demon has already concocted multiple ways for the vampire to beg for death; he wasn't sure if he'd yet grant it. "You'll never get to hear them, nightchild." he returns, glimpsing up at the howling crowd of supernatural that loomed over the both of them in the large ring. The body of the fallen demon remained at his rear; an annoyance that reminds him some low rank demon had spurred the nonsense on to begin with.

Demitri

The vampire wasn't afraid of the Demon. Demons always thought they were better than everyone else. The abilities they had, their cockiness. Every single part of them, Demitri hated. Which was exactly why he was in the ring. Just to destroy every single Demon he could. And Azarius was no different. Sure, he may have some more tricks up his sleeve than Dimitri knew of, but that didn't bother the vampire. He didn't mind surprises. He rolled his eyes as he heard Azar mutter. "All talk, Azarius. All fucking talk." He spat at the other, watching him as the other moved through smoke. Of fucking course he'd do that shit. Demitri thought to himself as he moved back slightly. He didn't want to be on the defense the whole time, but sometimes that's all he could do. The shouts from the supernatural's around them filled his ears and honestly, Demitri wished he could just turn it off. He knew they were excited for the fight, but holy fuck they needed to chill. "You're going for a silent death then?" Demitri asked, his eyebrows flicking upward. "Huh. Didn't take you for the silent type." As he said that, he used his vampire speed to run at the Demon, his fist ready to catch him right in the face. 

[cavernovs]

oftragxdy​:

cavernovs​:

Zane watched as people hustled and snatched the box, putting in numbers and obviously failing. He didn’t feel the need to do such a thing. There were enough people in the room for them to figure it out together. Why would he need to help? Him as an angel, however, probably would have thought otherwise. He would have wanted to help as much as he possibly could. Thank God, that’s not me anymore. He smirked at himself and then turned towards the Demon that had decided to speak to him.

“Are there? I haven’t much paid attention.” Zane said, as if bored by the conversation already. He folded his arms across his chest as he glanced back towards the group of people that were huddled around the lockbox. “How sly of you.” The fallen angel chuckled. “I’m afraid I have nothing to offer you. Nor do I care to play a game of ‘give me a soul or else’ with you. If you want a soul, take it. I doubt you’d follow through with the deal even if you made one.”

-

“No?” not a question as it is an opening to continue: “You seem rather fixated on the crowd,” just as impartial as the other male fronted. Remains where he is near the wall to glaze the same guests that swan about the lobby – most panicked about finding a combination to the box presented.

At the reply, Azarius’ smile finds its way to crack through the sneer on his face, I have nothing to offer you, is the most commonly told lie to any demon that barters deals hears. There’s always something. And whether the other man has an empty void where the soul normally would be hiding under flesh and curled protectively over the insides of any body, Azar most certainly can find uses for all things.

But is it a fair trade, often, never. 

Yet that’s always for the other side of the dealmaker to decide, to form powerful words that secure and bind the oath made. “If that’s how you think it works, no wonder you’re a broken thing tossed out by your betters.” A taunt without the bite that usually comes; a mockery instead sometimes digs beneath the skin of even the toughest of creatures. “If it were that simple, mortals would perish under the absence of the power cannot wield,” Such a waste. But he’s aware there’s a pointlessness to the current conversation – the other with the obvious tell; his confidence and similar darkness as Azarius’ own is evident enough to rule out anything else. “That doesn’t mean yours, anyone can offer a soul to be plucked,”