There is absolutely no part of him that is stupid enough to not recognize 'attack me' as a set up of some stripe. Especially not from an asshole with a holy avenger and a griffon.
Who is a healer, who wants to be in Gotham for Reasons and Bruce intends to let be in Gotham -also for reasons.
He's still going to do it.
He has a serious problem with curiosity.
So he draws back, those shadows solidify even more around him and then lash out, hard and fast at Zerxus with, for all intents and purposes as though they have taken physical, cutting, form.
Fire? Nah. He's much more into the dark. ...and just a touch safer.
It's not that the attack doesn't hit, and judging by the grunt of pain it's not entirely ineffective. But it doesn't slice as deep as it should, and the moment they touch Zerxus the shadows change, fading and flickering until they're talons of pure silver light arcing right back at Bruce.
It's not a lot of damage - exactly half, in fact - but the implication is huge. This is a paladin who's taken the Oath of Redemption, and reached the highest tier of mortal power, and Bruce hasn't even heard of him. He isn't a Champion of any god -
But I'm sure Raei adores him all the same. His father's words are dripping with contempt. What exactly do you think you're doing?
That he does not react at all to his attack being changed and sent back to him, even cut (pun intended) in half is a sign. With any luck at all, it'll be written off as any of a dozen things that have nothing to do with reality. Like an instinctive desire to just fucking freeze in place, because there is a much bigger threat than Zerxus now.
"There's nothing quite as arrogant as an overly confident paladin. You haven't answered my question."
Gathering information and buying time to do it in. That's not a lie. It just cuts off before the 'end game'. He just wants to know and truthfully if Gotham benefits... good.
If it was most anyone else, he'd recognise dread for what it is; he's seen every flavour of fear in every kind of face, after all.
But even he hasn't spent much time chatting to archdevils, and it isn't exactly hard to assume that Bruce is just being unflappable as an intimidation tactic.
Zerxus still doesn't answer his question, not immediately; he takes a moment to heal the damage, though it doesn't do anything to mend his armour.
Hmm. Sceptical, but less hostile, at least on the surface. He is intriguing, I suppose, and he seems to have connections.
"No, I did not come here to die. I came here to make a difference."
He waves his hand at the man. "Finish writing your letters, then." Snappish and a bit dismissive, before he settles back and continues to watch, just with a bit less overt curiosity.
The desire to help is a very easy thing to leverage over the course of a year. As is whatever's made him willing to leave his son.. End goal? Sure. It can be finding out what those connections are and how to turn the man himself into leverage. There's something more there.
He truly isn't an idiot.
...Helping Gotham is still not a terrible thing. He still wants to know more for the sake of knowing and because something about that level of audacity is compelling.
It's a profound shift in demeanour, and Zerxus holds his gaze just long enough to show that he's noticed, and to avoid following his directive immediately. He's got standards.
Then he starts penning the letter to Eaedalus. This one takes longer, between the strategic matters and the personal ones. The Okiros are family, and that means they're the primary people he trusts Elias with when he's away like this.
You aren't wrong. Sharp and wary, but with an edge of earnest pride. (Or as earnest as the Father of Lies ever gets, at least.) So much pride, too - I almost want him for myself.
Teasing, more than warning; Asmodeus can take whatever he wants, they both know that, but he's generally happy to let Bruce have his own toys.
Uh huh. Notice, write your letters and keep your mouth about noticing. Bruce is busy - though still keeping an eye on things and noting the length of that letter.
That's the one to whoever has his son..... That isn't exactly an intentionally directed thought, just an observational thought that he is aware will be heard. Pride. Arrogance. Desperation and something to prove.
Does he want Asmodeus to 'take' Zerxus? Absolutely not. He's been here for a long time. It would take a lot of investment and unlearning to even contemplate protesting. Not that he's never a... problem for his father, but when he is it certainly isn't casually.
He's also spoiled and generally expects to get what he wants.
Attraction. Oh, that one is definitely teasing. (Zerxus sure didn't mention another parent in that self-defence...) All things you've taken fine advantage of before.
Zerxus remains utterly oblivious, of course; he's about halfway through, writing quickly and smoothly, though he scratches things out a few time. It's difficult, striking the balance between being honest and avoiding too much worry.
He's definitely not from one of the greater cities, judging by that armour. There aren't many of those left - there's the Dawn City, beloved of the other side of the family, a few championed by the greatest of mortal heroes or stubborn demigods, fucking Aeor - but they thrive within their limited borders. A paladin like this would be in mithral plate and the finest of capes.
I suggest finding a replacement, we don't want to be embarrassed. It doesn't need to be armour - he didn't come here to fight, after all.
And attraction. He hadn't actually, truly, noticed on a conscious level, but that didn't mean he wasn't aware. Largely by default, in fairness. Bruce is attractive, knows he is, and is well acquainted with how to use that.
He's just also fascinated by this specific man. Still watching him as he writes as a matter of fact.
I'll find something for him to wear that will help him 'blend in'. It's an easy argument to make. Am I suggesting he send his armor home, or do you have some particular desire for it? to stay within Gotham or very specifically and personally.
Oh, absolutely not, the sooner he gets rid of it the better. I think he means to send that sword off, too. Asmodeus sounds blatantly intrigued about that one. Holy Avengers aren't something he has to worry about, of course, but the power they hold in any other context is considerable.
Meanwhile, Zerxus finally finishes the second letter and starts the third and final one. Or, well, he writes his son's name and then stares at the blank page, quill hovering just above it.
The willingness to walk into Gotham without the sword was that reason. The willingness to send it back is a bigger one. Even if it's denied, there's something... fundamental cracked, Bruce thinks. There has to be. The pieces don't fit, otherwise.
Meanwhile the writing stalling out has him wondering, and not at all realizing he's having any sort of personal response to the evidence of a more normal parental type bond. He is, but is oblivious to it.
Just puzzling out pieces and noting that he - they - have his son's name now. Or at least can likely puzzle it out.
As if to demonstrate that very thing, Zerxus actually closes his eyes for a moment. He does have his mount right next to him with eyes wide open, but it says something that he's comfortable enough to do it.
Then, finally, he starts writing in earnest. I love you, and I'm sorry. This is the longest I'm going to be away.
He explains more to Elias than either of the others why he's staying; he thinks the people here really need someone like him, and he doubts there will be another opportunity. He wants to learn everything he can about the Prince of Hell, who still cares so fiercely for a mortal city.
He tells him to let their family and community protect him, even though Zerxus knows how brave he is and how strong he's becoming; he tells him to take care of Tempus, to keep up his lessons, to be a good example for the younger ones. In letters like this, he always adds a new spell to learn or sword form to practice, or snippets of stories or songs or poems they'd never heard. This time he does all three.
After he signs his name and begins to fold the letter, "I'd like to make an adjustment to this deal."
It says he's an arrogant idiot, is what Bruce is pretty sure it says.
He waits out the letter writing with seemingly endless patience, and in truth that's not too far off the mark. He's sharp and spoiled and can be incredibly reactive, but he is capable of still for far, far longer than his general demeanor would imply.
Particularly when his father is an... active presence.
He doesn't turn until he's put both letters safely in their satchel. For the first time, there's the faintest edge of anxiety to his gaze.
"I don't know what this will cost." The way he says that, though, he'll be willing to pay it regardless. "I doubt I can afford safety for our entire community. But one person - "
Asmodeus only commands devils and his own worshippers; it won't be a guarantee that nothing will hurt Elias in his absence. But that still deflects a lot of brutal violence.
Inside Bruce's head, his father's laughter is slyly delighted. What do you suppose that's worth?
"You are an idiot." Yes, he would have used the son and his safety as... a point of bargaining for what he wanted. Yes, his safety for the time his father was gone could be more secure with this, but you don't just hand a devil that sort of opportunity with such clear willingness to give anything for it.
...he should not have said that aloud, and he realizes it only after the flare of temper and second the words are out of his mouth.
"...It has been said." His voice is wry, but his expression has softened.
If you offered to make it permanent, the fool would offer his soul in a heartbeat. Asmodeus sounds - well, as snide as you would expect, confronted with selflessness. Which you really ought to be happier about.
He could make thinks horribly unpleasant for both of them so, so quickly.
But all he says is, For now...well, this should have been part of the deal to start with: he must obey you, for the length of the year.
And fair is fair: he can't attack any devils, through this year or the next.
Yes, but then I'd have a permanent arrangement with, and soul of, what is apparently a blithering idiot.
His tone is not quite his father's snideness, but more something caught between disgust and confusion, as he watches that man's expression soften in response to very real anger.
"You attack no devils for two years. You attack no one at all in Gotham for the time you are here, though you are free to defend yourself. You obey me for the duration of that year." His verbal tone is more flat, but not quite recognizable as mostly recitation. Mostly because 'don't attack people in Gotham' is... likely unnecessary but also wholly his requirement.
And he's just still looking... pissy and confused. "You can start with sending your armor and sword back." The sword he already knew was going, but he doesn't need to admit he knew that and, well, he should reasonably want it gone.
You don't need to keep him chained at your side for eternity, Bruce.
Blissfully unaware that this possibility is being pictured, Zerxus is absorbing the more immediate implications. Really, he'd have needed to toe the line with Gotham's prince regardless,
The thorniest consequence will be that second year, but - well, he can delegate. He'll have to endure some tough conversations, but the most important people will understand.
"I can agree to those terms. I was going to send the sword back anyway, but..." The armour, really?
Well, it's not worth arguing about, so Zerxus just shrugs and starts removing the mismatched pieces. Some are finer than others, but all show a great deal of wear and tear.
Especially when combined with his obsessive nature. And the fact that he'd want to. And probably find that hot. He does not need that pressure and fully intends to resist doing that, at least until and unless he's either pushed or this idiot figures out how to be, if not more intelligent, better at navigating these things.
...That year should be a good chance to try to teach him a thing or two regardless of any ultimate goals.
"You stand out in it and look as though you expect to be attacked. I'll find something more suitable. Since you'll be staying."
Edited (WORKING IN THE JOKE OK) 2024-11-22 01:49 (UTC)
I sometimes forget that you weren't born to it. He absolutely does not, but it's always been an easy lie; the soothing ones usually are.
"Good point. ...It's strange, seeing so many adults without armour at all." Piece by piece, Zerxus reveals a gambeson that's clearly the oldest thing so far. It's been stitched and patched so often it's clearly leagues away from its original appearance - save for the carefully preserved crest over his breastbone. It isn't an emblem Bruce would recognise, though the script that circles it reads City of Thrones.
Asmodeus, of course, is a different story. CathmoÃra. It's half a purr and half a growl, half proud and half - wistful, almost. Domunas.
Now that's a name Bruce definitely knows. Early in the war the continent of Domunas was wrecked, scoured, shattered.
Bruce doesn't forget, and he doesn't for one moment believe that Asmodeus forgets.
That particular assumed lie Bruce reads as a sign that he is behaving in a way that is ... less than desirable, but is not so far out of line as to warrant it being addressed in a stronger way.
At least for the time being, and with other more interesting things to hold his attention. They are also holding Bruce's attention. More so with that low, vibrato quality of his father's voice and the... wistful? tone.
The state of his gambeson and where it came from tells a story. It's a fairly large piece of the puzzle as to why Zerxus is here.
"How old are you?" That is... absolutely out of nowhere and after having been silent for likely entirely too long to fit within the flow of conversation. It can't be anything but a response to seeing the insignia.
Cathmoira was a city.
yes, he's asking Zerxus a question while very much not asking one of Asmodeus.
A far better one than its sister, if I recall - Avalir was one of those floating bastions of magical hubris.
Zerxus is confused, for a second, before his gaze settles on the crest. Then his hands still, and his expression dims. Without looking up, and with barely maintained nonchalance, "Forty...three? Something like that." It's not always easy to keep track; calendars haven't exactly been their priority.
Ah. I imagine he was one of his city's...defenders.
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"I didn't come here to fight."
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Again with the almost... over the top even for a devil aloofness.
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Zerxus tucks his first letter into one of the satchels before stepping back from both Tempus and Bruce, spreading his arms.
"I want you to attack me. No, I don't want it to be a killing blow and yes, this does have a point."
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Who is a healer, who wants to be in Gotham for Reasons and Bruce intends to let be in Gotham -also for reasons.
He's still going to do it.
He has a serious problem with curiosity.
So he draws back, those shadows solidify even more around him and then lash out, hard and fast at Zerxus with, for all intents and purposes as though they have taken physical, cutting, form.
Fire? Nah. He's much more into the dark. ...and just a touch safer.
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It's not a lot of damage - exactly half, in fact - but the implication is huge. This is a paladin who's taken the Oath of Redemption, and reached the highest tier of mortal power, and Bruce hasn't even heard of him. He isn't a Champion of any god -
But I'm sure Raei adores him all the same. His father's words are dripping with contempt. What exactly do you think you're doing?
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That he does not react at all to his attack being changed and sent back to him, even cut (pun intended) in half is a sign. With any luck at all, it'll be written off as any of a dozen things that have nothing to do with reality. Like an instinctive desire to just fucking freeze in place, because there is a much bigger threat than Zerxus now.
"There's nothing quite as arrogant as an overly confident paladin. You haven't answered my question."
Gathering information and buying time to do it in. That's not a lie. It just cuts off before the 'end game'. He just wants to know and truthfully if Gotham benefits... good.
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But even he hasn't spent much time chatting to archdevils, and it isn't exactly hard to assume that Bruce is just being unflappable as an intimidation tactic.
Zerxus still doesn't answer his question, not immediately; he takes a moment to heal the damage, though it doesn't do anything to mend his armour.
Hmm. Sceptical, but less hostile, at least on the surface. He is intriguing, I suppose, and he seems to have connections.
"No, I did not come here to die. I came here to make a difference."
Ugh.
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The desire to help is a very easy thing to leverage over the course of a year. As is whatever's made him willing to leave his son.. End goal? Sure. It can be finding out what those connections are and how to turn the man himself into leverage. There's something more there.
He truly isn't an idiot.
...Helping Gotham is still not a terrible thing. He still wants to know more for the sake of knowing and because something about that level of audacity is compelling.
His end goal is still what works, here.
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Then he starts penning the letter to Eaedalus. This one takes longer, between the strategic matters and the personal ones. The Okiros are family, and that means they're the primary people he trusts Elias with when he's away like this.
You aren't wrong. Sharp and wary, but with an edge of earnest pride. (Or as earnest as the Father of Lies ever gets, at least.) So much pride, too - I almost want him for myself.
Teasing, more than warning; Asmodeus can take whatever he wants, they both know that, but he's generally happy to let Bruce have his own toys.
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That's the one to whoever has his son..... That isn't exactly an intentionally directed thought, just an observational thought that he is aware will be heard. Pride. Arrogance. Desperation and something to prove.
Does he want Asmodeus to 'take' Zerxus? Absolutely not. He's been here for a long time. It would take a lot of investment and unlearning to even contemplate protesting. Not that he's never a... problem for his father, but when he is it certainly isn't casually.
He's also spoiled and generally expects to get what he wants.
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Zerxus remains utterly oblivious, of course; he's about halfway through, writing quickly and smoothly, though he scratches things out a few time. It's difficult, striking the balance between being honest and avoiding too much worry.
He's definitely not from one of the greater cities, judging by that armour. There aren't many of those left - there's the Dawn City, beloved of the other side of the family, a few championed by the greatest of mortal heroes or stubborn demigods, fucking Aeor - but they thrive within their limited borders. A paladin like this would be in mithral plate and the finest of capes.
I suggest finding a replacement, we don't want to be embarrassed. It doesn't need to be armour - he didn't come here to fight, after all.
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He's just also fascinated by this specific man. Still watching him as he writes as a matter of fact.
I'll find something for him to wear that will help him 'blend in'. It's an easy argument to make. Am I suggesting he send his armor home, or do you have some particular desire for it? to stay within Gotham or very specifically and personally.
Why would his father? ...because he can?
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Meanwhile, Zerxus finally finishes the second letter and starts the third and final one. Or, well, he writes his son's name and then stares at the blank page, quill hovering just above it.
Then he writes I love you, and stops again.
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The willingness to walk into Gotham without the sword was that reason. The willingness to send it back is a bigger one. Even if it's denied, there's something... fundamental cracked, Bruce thinks. There has to be. The pieces don't fit, otherwise.
Meanwhile the writing stalling out has him wondering, and not at all realizing he's having any sort of personal response to the evidence of a more normal parental type bond. He is, but is oblivious to it.
Just puzzling out pieces and noting that he - they - have his son's name now. Or at least can likely puzzle it out.
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Then, finally, he starts writing in earnest. I love you, and I'm sorry. This is the longest I'm going to be away.
He explains more to Elias than either of the others why he's staying; he thinks the people here really need someone like him, and he doubts there will be another opportunity. He wants to learn everything he can about the Prince of Hell, who still cares so fiercely for a mortal city.
He tells him to let their family and community protect him, even though Zerxus knows how brave he is and how strong he's becoming; he tells him to take care of Tempus, to keep up his lessons, to be a good example for the younger ones. In letters like this, he always adds a new spell to learn or sword form to practice, or snippets of stories or songs or poems they'd never heard. This time he does all three.
After he signs his name and begins to fold the letter, "I'd like to make an adjustment to this deal."
Oh, this should be interesting.
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He waits out the letter writing with seemingly endless patience, and in truth that's not too far off the mark. He's sharp and spoiled and can be incredibly reactive, but he is capable of still for far, far longer than his general demeanor would imply.
Particularly when his father is an... active presence.
"Tell me."
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"I don't know what this will cost." The way he says that, though, he'll be willing to pay it regardless. "I doubt I can afford safety for our entire community. But one person - "
Asmodeus only commands devils and his own worshippers; it won't be a guarantee that nothing will hurt Elias in his absence. But that still deflects a lot of brutal violence.
Inside Bruce's head, his father's laughter is slyly delighted. What do you suppose that's worth?
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Bruce is appalled and angry.
"You are an idiot." Yes, he would have used the son and his safety as... a point of bargaining for what he wanted. Yes, his safety for the time his father was gone could be more secure with this, but you don't just hand a devil that sort of opportunity with such clear willingness to give anything for it.
...he should not have said that aloud, and he realizes it only after the flare of temper and second the words are out of his mouth.
Anything you want.
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If you offered to make it permanent, the fool would offer his soul in a heartbeat. Asmodeus sounds - well, as snide as you would expect, confronted with selflessness. Which you really ought to be happier about.
He could make thinks horribly unpleasant for both of them so, so quickly.
But all he says is, For now...well, this should have been part of the deal to start with: he must obey you, for the length of the year.
And fair is fair: he can't attack any devils, through this year or the next.
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His tone is not quite his father's snideness, but more something caught between disgust and confusion, as he watches that man's expression soften in response to very real anger.
"You attack no devils for two years. You attack no one at all in Gotham for the time you are here, though you are free to defend yourself. You obey me for the duration of that year." His verbal tone is more flat, but not quite recognizable as mostly recitation. Mostly because 'don't attack people in Gotham' is... likely unnecessary but also wholly his requirement.
And he's just still looking... pissy and confused. "You can start with sending your armor and sword back." The sword he already knew was going, but he doesn't need to admit he knew that and, well, he should reasonably want it gone.
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Blissfully unaware that this possibility is being pictured, Zerxus is absorbing the more immediate implications. Really, he'd have needed to toe the line with Gotham's prince regardless,
The thorniest consequence will be that second year, but - well, he can delegate. He'll have to endure some tough conversations, but the most important people will understand.
"I can agree to those terms. I was going to send the sword back anyway, but..." The armour, really?
Well, it's not worth arguing about, so Zerxus just shrugs and starts removing the mismatched pieces. Some are finer than others, but all show a great deal of wear and tear.
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Especially when combined with his obsessive nature. And the fact that he'd want to. And probably find that hot. He does not need that pressure and fully intends to resist doing that, at least until and unless he's either pushed or this idiot figures out how to be, if not more intelligent, better at navigating these things.
...That year should be a good chance to try to teach him a thing or two regardless of any ultimate goals.
"You stand out in it and look as though you expect to be attacked. I'll find something more suitable. Since you'll be staying."
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"Good point. ...It's strange, seeing so many adults without armour at all." Piece by piece, Zerxus reveals a gambeson that's clearly the oldest thing so far. It's been stitched and patched so often it's clearly leagues away from its original appearance - save for the carefully preserved crest over his breastbone. It isn't an emblem Bruce would recognise, though the script that circles it reads City of Thrones.
Asmodeus, of course, is a different story. CathmoÃra. It's half a purr and half a growl, half proud and half - wistful, almost. Domunas.
Now that's a name Bruce definitely knows. Early in the war the continent of Domunas was wrecked, scoured, shattered.
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That particular assumed lie Bruce reads as a sign that he is behaving in a way that is ... less than desirable, but is not so far out of line as to warrant it being addressed in a stronger way.
At least for the time being, and with other more interesting things to hold his attention. They are also holding Bruce's attention. More so with that low, vibrato quality of his father's voice and the... wistful? tone.
The state of his gambeson and where it came from tells a story. It's a fairly large piece of the puzzle as to why Zerxus is here.
"How old are you?" That is... absolutely out of nowhere and after having been silent for likely entirely too long to fit within the flow of conversation. It can't be anything but a response to seeing the insignia.
Cathmoira was a city.
yes, he's asking Zerxus a question while very much not asking one of Asmodeus.
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Zerxus is confused, for a second, before his gaze settles on the crest. Then his hands still, and his expression dims. Without looking up, and with barely maintained nonchalance, "Forty...three? Something like that." It's not always easy to keep track; calendars haven't exactly been their priority.
Ah. I imagine he was one of his city's...defenders.
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