"I'll keep that in mind." It's something? And he does at least finish the rest of the pancakes without incident.
As he slides them onto another plate, "Sounds like something his parents didn't handle well, then."
The pancakes aren't pretty, but not all of them are burnt, and only the one was fully charcoal. (He left that in the pan.) Zerxus sets them down in the middle of the table. There's a jar of honey, which should help.
"No idea," he admits. "I'm a guy and a lab experiment, they're 'gods'. The younger one turned up out of his mind to make trouble, the elder turned up to try to drag him home. I like the older one and have bossed him around a few times, but I don't have details."
He moves to the table and starts dividing the food between two plates - he isn't eating alone. Well, he will if he has to, but he doesn't have to so he's not going to. He absolutely douses everything in honey, though, because it's effectively 'free' calories.
Zerxus doesn't protest, but he does make sure he gets the smaller portion, entirely for practicality's sake. Honestly, it feels - kind of nice, settling down to a meal created with someone else, messy and imperfect as it is.
(But he's definitely keeping the honey to the pancakes.)
"The older one can just - turn up, and get bossed around. That's..."
It doesn't sound like any god he's ever met, even the most humble of the Prime Deities.
"You have gotta stop with the questions," Steve says, mildly exasperated, but sits down and picks up his fork.
Sweet eggs are weird, but Steve's eaten weirder. Given to him in the form of MRE's.
"I don't even know what you find surprising or weird about that one. He's got his own stuff going on most of the time, but God of Thunder and Love or not, the team's mine. Why did you stop eating?"
'I got distracted'. Immediately asks another question. Steve's pretty sure Zerxus is just being contrary at this point, and he's not mad about it. In fact, it's pretty endearing.
He is absolutely just this side of wolfing his food down, though so too distracted to do more than lift an eyebrow. Or notice any texture problems with the food.
"As far as I know. and in the name of being honest, I'm pretty sure the more reasonable of them would be happy enough being classed as powerful aliens from somewhere that happens to be connected to earth. Not the same kind of thing as is happening with this." This encompasses... all of hell. "Probably more on par with you as you are now than him." He's not an idiot. Usually.
"Why does it smell different, now?" Maybe if he makes his own questions pointed, it'll either make Zerxus careful or he'll get something useful.
That level of insight isn't surprising by now, especially considering the recent change. (Asmodeus claimed that it wasn't his doing, and Zerxus doesn't want to believe him but it feels true. A devil's body and soul are the same, and shift accordingly; the idea that Steve makes him feel more human than he has in a hundred years is terrifyingly plausible.)
It takes him a beat too long to answer a very straightforward question.
"I asked him to make the palace a little more hospitable. It will make adjusting easier, and...make it seem like this was on purpose." Finding a human, keeping a human -
The rest of the Hells really don't need to know that something strange is going on.
Steve realizes as he waits on Zerxus answer that he hasn't said a word about anything that came along with the military experiment, except that he eats a lot and heals faster than someone un... tampered with? would.
His inclination is to offer up why the difference in the way the air smells is pretty stark to him.
Then he remembers who he is and decides to Not Do That.
Especially since one of them is way more convinced it wasn't on purpose than the other. "Unless it was intentional." He doesn't even pause his eating. "Knowing not to contradict's a good idea. I'm gonna have to interact with somebody besides you at some point."
"...What?" That counts as a question, at least. "Intention on whose - "
His hands freezes with a piece of pancake halfway to his lips.
"...That doesn't - he can't just pull people here from other realities."
Assuming he hasn't learned anything new, that he didn't have any help, that he hasn't been planning this for who knows long -
"What would he need you for?" Everything that Zerxus admires would turn Asmodeus's stomach, and beyond that - he's a mortal, with no connection to other gods.
"All I'm saying -" Between bites, because priorities, even if Zerxus is having a crisis. "-is that the nearest things to gods didn't impress you much when compared to omnipotent ruler of hell."
Which makes him the most powerful option and most likely to be able to achieve that, if it wasn't a pure accident. "I'm not gonna make guesses as to motive. I'm nothing special, but I think you'll be able to put a guess or two together for yourself when you stop looking like I hit you over the head with a frying pan."
You remind me of my husband. I asked him to keep you safe, and this was the price. I asked him to make it a little more hospitable for you .
The answer doesn't come immediately. He finishes his food, walks the dish to the sink, and takes another deep breath.
Then he steps forward, directly between the table and the door, and growls, "Asmodeus, get the fuck in here."
It's the most disrespectful he's dared to be out loud in a very long time, and the first consequence comes quick. Fire edged like as sword bursts from his back, as if he's just been impaled through the heart.
His knees buckle, and he's still knelt on the floor when the door creaks open.
"There's no need for that." The devil's voice is soft, and it suits him; he has delicate features, framed by flowing black hair. He carries no weapon, and wears no armour.
On his knees, gasping and bloody, Zerxus mutters, "Like hell there isn't."
Steve stands up so fast in response to the 'consequence' - yeah, sure, that's one word for it - that he knocks the chair over and literally flips the table, winding up pretty effectively beside Zerxus.
And the sink.
His reflex is absolutely, 100%, to grab and fling the pan closest to his hand, straight at whatever was coming through the door, before he even registered who or what.
"Hey!"
Whether that's at Zerxus to get him to shut up, outrage at Zerxus' condition, or just pure adrenaline....
If Steve met This Guy on the street, he would immediately dislike him for the nature of that smile.
"Yeah, you're fine. Just a little make-up routine for the aesthetic." He is... cranky as hell right now. "Stop being a fucking idiot before Fire, Brimstone, and Sadism over there remembers he can use me as leverage."
What? Is he leveraging himself weird? Maybe, but shut up.
Also Steve really needs to not be dismissing the actual devil right now, but he sure as shit is not Steve's priority.
"Maybe not, but you can't remember not to ask questions, so consider the reminder directed at you."
Honestly, though, if he's right? Okay. Wrong? Still okay. This wasn't news to him.
He does, however, help Zerxus up, or at least puts a hand around his arm and braces, since the idiot seems to be determined to get up.
"Did you call him in here for a reason?"
He... is still just talking around Asmodeus. For... reasons like 'not losing his temper' and 'fuck that guy'. ...and also intimidation and not even beginning to know how.
Edited (just putting a lost space in) 2024-11-17 04:23 (UTC)
He does let himself lean on Steve until he's fully upright. After that, he's - not quite steady, but stubborn enough to make up for it. The gaping wound in his chest hasn't closed but it's harder to see through, at least.
"Oh, honestly - " With a wave of his hand, Asmodeus conjures a small but plush armchair right behind Zerxus, butting into the back of his knees and forcing him to collapse down into it with a pained, deeply indignant huff.
He's still looking directly at Steve, red eyes glittering with playful curiosity. "He's horribly careless with himself, I'm afraid."
He is absolutely not going to be examining evidence that Zerxus had a sword through him within the past few minutes too closely.
Or be disturbed by the injury or that Zerxus is conscious and talking with that injury.
He is noting that at least that injury is healing.
Mostly, Asmodeus is now being direct enough that Steve feels challenged. "Yeah, I know the type. Seems to go hand in hand with a refusal to be intimidated into being well behaved and follow rules."
Steve gives Asmodeus the flattest, least impressed look ever.
Is he going to verbalize a single, solitary one of his suspicions? No. One, all he has is suspicion. Two, it would.... Goddammit, he thinks his priorities in this might be aligned with what amounts to an alternate reality's satan.
And if that's not fucking frustrating and alarming, nothing is.
"I think you're better at making statements that serve as questions without being questions than Zerxus is. I also think I'm not stupid enough to volunteer answers."
Unlike theories about how he's here and why, Steve doesn't have a clue what that grin is about (though it's sure worth noticing and worrying about), much less what they're supposedly discussing.
He'd ask, but well.
Instead his eyebrows twitch just faintly at the floating chair. Then he sits in it.
"Sure. Discuss." Civilized not so much given the way this started, hell, and this asshole but ok.
The moment Steve sits down, the chair ripples beneath him to match the armchair Zerxus is in. It's obnoxiously comfortable.
Asmodeus doesn't exactly sit; one moment he's standing, and the next he's lounging back in something reminiscent of a throne, but not quite ostentatious enough that it looks entirely out of place.
Zerxus rolls his eyes, but he straightens in his chair; the more they talk the faster his wound heals, which is - well, he'll file that away to think about later. "If you brought him here, I'd like to know why."
He doesn't expect honesty, but that doesn't mean he won't hear anything useful.
Asmodeus tilts his head, eyebrows arching slightly. "That's the question, isn't it." With a wry gesture towards Steve, "Don't mistake me, you're very entertaining but I do have a kingdom to run."
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As he slides them onto another plate, "Sounds like something his parents didn't handle well, then."
The pancakes aren't pretty, but not all of them are burnt, and only the one was fully charcoal. (He left that in the pan.) Zerxus sets them down in the middle of the table. There's a jar of honey, which should help.
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He moves to the table and starts dividing the food between two plates - he isn't eating alone. Well, he will if he has to, but he doesn't have to so he's not going to. He absolutely douses everything in honey, though, because it's effectively 'free' calories.
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(But he's definitely keeping the honey to the pancakes.)
"The older one can just - turn up, and get bossed around. That's..."
It doesn't sound like any god he's ever met, even the most humble of the Prime Deities.
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Sweet eggs are weird, but Steve's eaten weirder. Given to him in the form of MRE's.
"I don't even know what you find surprising or weird about that one. He's got his own stuff going on most of the time, but God of Thunder and Love or not, the team's mine. Why did you stop eating?"
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It would be petty, even immature, to ignore Asmodeus simply because he'd been ignored first.
"I got distracted." Fine, he'll carve into a pancake and bite into that -
Huh. The texture is off, but it's not horrible.
"In my experience, gods don't take orders from mortals. Are they the only two you've met?"
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He is absolutely just this side of wolfing his food down, though so too distracted to do more than lift an eyebrow. Or notice any texture problems with the food.
"As far as I know. and in the name of being honest, I'm pretty sure the more reasonable of them would be happy enough being classed as powerful aliens from somewhere that happens to be connected to earth. Not the same kind of thing as is happening with this." This encompasses... all of hell. "Probably more on par with you as you are now than him." He's not an idiot. Usually.
"Why does it smell different, now?" Maybe if he makes his own questions pointed, it'll either make Zerxus careful or he'll get something useful.
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It takes him a beat too long to answer a very straightforward question.
"I asked him to make the palace a little more hospitable. It will make adjusting easier, and...make it seem like this was on purpose." Finding a human, keeping a human -
The rest of the Hells really don't need to know that something strange is going on.
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His inclination is to offer up why the difference in the way the air smells is pretty stark to him.
Then he remembers who he is and decides to Not Do That.
Especially since one of them is way more convinced it wasn't on purpose than the other. "Unless it was intentional." He doesn't even pause his eating. "Knowing not to contradict's a good idea. I'm gonna have to interact with somebody besides you at some point."
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His hands freezes with a piece of pancake halfway to his lips.
"...That doesn't - he can't just pull people here from other realities."
Assuming he hasn't learned anything new, that he didn't have any help, that he hasn't been planning this for who knows long -
"What would he need you for?" Everything that Zerxus admires would turn Asmodeus's stomach, and beyond that - he's a mortal, with no connection to other gods.
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Which makes him the most powerful option and most likely to be able to achieve that, if it wasn't a pure accident. "I'm not gonna make guesses as to motive. I'm nothing special, but I think you'll be able to put a guess or two together for yourself when you stop looking like I hit you over the head with a frying pan."
You remind me of my husband.
I asked him to keep you safe, and this was the price.
I asked him to make it a little more hospitable for you .
...disappearing clothes.
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Which does mean, logistically, that working with him instead of against him is the likeliest option.
Zerxus...takes a deep breath, and then keeps eating, because he needs something to ground him for a bit.
Only once he's almost finished does he say, slow and quiet, "You think he brought you here - for me?"
Mostly, he still sounds stunned and uncertain, but there's a growing edge to his voice.
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Stop with the goddamn questions, says the flat look at the end there.
Also, he really hadn't meant any of this to be that much of a revelation. Benefits of an outside perspective, he guesses.
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The answer doesn't come immediately. He finishes his food, walks the dish to the sink, and takes another deep breath.
Then he steps forward, directly between the table and the door, and growls, "Asmodeus, get the fuck in here."
It's the most disrespectful he's dared to be out loud in a very long time, and the first consequence comes quick. Fire edged like as sword bursts from his back, as if he's just been impaled through the heart.
His knees buckle, and he's still knelt on the floor when the door creaks open.
"There's no need for that." The devil's voice is soft, and it suits him; he has delicate features, framed by flowing black hair. He carries no weapon, and wears no armour.
On his knees, gasping and bloody, Zerxus mutters, "Like hell there isn't."
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And the sink.
His reflex is absolutely, 100%, to grab and fling the pan closest to his hand, straight at whatever was coming through the door, before he even registered who or what.
"Hey!"
Whether that's at Zerxus to get him to shut up, outrage at Zerxus' condition, or just pure adrenaline....
It's all of them.
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Meanwhile, Zerxus looks up at him with immeasurable fondness, though the effect is dampened slightly by the blood staining his lips.
"I'm all right." A patently absurd thing to say, but he is already healing.
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"Yeah, you're fine. Just a little make-up routine for the aesthetic." He is... cranky as hell right now. "Stop being a fucking idiot before Fire, Brimstone, and Sadism over there remembers he can use me as leverage."
What? Is he leveraging himself weird? Maybe, but shut up.
Also Steve really needs to not be dismissing the actual devil right now, but he sure as shit is not Steve's priority.
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Zerxus pauses in the midst of pushing himself up to glare upwards. "Cute."
Then, with a sharper glance at Steve, "He never forgets. ...Especially if you're right about why you're here."
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Honestly, though, if he's right? Okay. Wrong? Still okay. This wasn't news to him.
He does, however, help Zerxus up, or at least puts a hand around his arm and braces, since the idiot seems to be determined to get up.
"Did you call him in here for a reason?"
He... is still just talking around Asmodeus. For... reasons like 'not losing his temper' and 'fuck that guy'. ...and also intimidation and not even beginning to know how.
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He does let himself lean on Steve until he's fully upright. After that, he's - not quite steady, but stubborn enough to make up for it. The gaping wound in his chest hasn't closed but it's harder to see through, at least.
"Oh, honestly - " With a wave of his hand, Asmodeus conjures a small but plush armchair right behind Zerxus, butting into the back of his knees and forcing him to collapse down into it with a pained, deeply indignant huff.
He's still looking directly at Steve, red eyes glittering with playful curiosity. "He's horribly careless with himself, I'm afraid."
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Or be disturbed by the injury or that Zerxus is conscious and talking with that injury.
He is noting that at least that injury is healing.
Mostly, Asmodeus is now being direct enough that Steve feels challenged. "Yeah, I know the type. Seems to go hand in hand with a refusal to be intimidated into being well behaved and follow rules."
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Annoyingly, Zerxus does feel better without needing to support his own weight, so his voice is stronger when he says, "And that's why I called him."
His glare is unconvinced, but it's clear he hasn't yet made up his mind on what's really going on.
"Let's talk."
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Is he going to verbalize a single, solitary one of his suspicions? No. One, all he has is suspicion. Two, it would.... Goddammit, he thinks his priorities in this might be aligned with what amounts to an alternate reality's satan.
And if that's not fucking frustrating and alarming, nothing is.
"I think you're better at making statements that serve as questions without being questions than Zerxus is. I also think I'm not stupid enough to volunteer answers."
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"Well. He's young, yet."
Another gesture and Steve's chair rights itself, drifting over and landing behind him. "You may as well sit, if we're having a civilised discussion."
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He'd ask, but well.
Instead his eyebrows twitch just faintly at the floating chair. Then he sits in it.
"Sure. Discuss." Civilized not so much given the way this started, hell, and this asshole but ok.
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Asmodeus doesn't exactly sit; one moment he's standing, and the next he's lounging back in something reminiscent of a throne, but not quite ostentatious enough that it looks entirely out of place.
Zerxus rolls his eyes, but he straightens in his chair; the more they talk the faster his wound heals, which is - well, he'll file that away to think about later. "If you brought him here, I'd like to know why."
He doesn't expect honesty, but that doesn't mean he won't hear anything useful.
Asmodeus tilts his head, eyebrows arching slightly. "That's the question, isn't it." With a wry gesture towards Steve, "Don't mistake me, you're very entertaining but I do have a kingdom to run."
He's trying to make it sound absurd.
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