Zerxus keeps his arms crossed, at first, but the further they go and the more he focuses on taking in the city, the more relaxed they become until finally they fall back so his sides.
"I ate rations a few hours ago." He had plenty left for the trip back, but he sent those home with Tempus. "Lunch in the air isn't as romantic as it sounds."
"It frankly sounds nauseating." Might have something to do with the Griffin, it might not, but either way it didn't sound romantic to him to start with.
He also is gradually relaxing. Not completely but not having an additional participant in this conversation makes that easier. Though he has not one. single. doubt. that it is being observed.
Maybe not so much, later, or if things are truly boring enough, but this new? Nope. That is a level of fire he will not be discounting as near certain rather than even probable. (It's always possible).
"I'll feed you after we've worked out what we'll be dressing you in, though I'm leaning heavily toward red." It'd be nice contrast to how strongly Bruce prefers things to be primarily black. "Then make some sort of arrangement so you can feed yourself while you're here."
He's a devil. It's not high on his priority list, usually. Care and keeping of a mortal skills are on par with 'feed it and clothe it so it doesn't die'. Good luck on things like 'where to shower'.
"I didn't know devils had delicate stomachs." Wry, sharp, but not a real barb. If he's still feeling wounded he isn't showing it through blatant hostility.
"If I told you I'm more of a 'blues and greys' sort of person..." There's not a lot of optimism in his voice. It's not like he hates red, at least. "But I'm not picky about food."
It's pretty damn hard to be in a world-spanning divine war, granted, but it was true even in the life he used to have, the one that increasingly feels like it belonged to someone else.
"And I can make my own. ...Does anyone else live there, besides you?"
"I said it sounded nauseating, not that I'd vomit." There's a difference there, and it's truthfully really is mostly about his complete lack of desire to fly, much less on a celestial anything, thank you.
He keeps walking, moving easily through the streets and not paying much attention to do so. Very much honing in on 'home' though, and doing so very directly. "I'll accept gray. Blue, no. You'll be very clearly a member of the household. You're going to look the part." That means blue is all the way out, thank you. ...also he just doesn't like it much.
Then shoots Zerxus a strange look in response to that question. Not that it is a question, but that the answer seems really obvious to him. "No one lives there besides me. There are occasional visitors and staff. You'll be left largely alone." But not unsupervised.
"I'm not sure two people makes a household." Flippant, but there's an undercurrent of wistfulness there. This won't be the first time he's joined one of those.
(Evandrin hadn't yet become First Knight when Zerxus first moved in, but he was steadily climbing the ranks and came from a wealthy family besides; surprising absolutely nobody he tended to get along with the servants better than his in-laws, but he felt comfortable in the place far more quickly than he expected.
Somehow, he doesn't think he should count on that.)
"...What kind of visitors should I be expecting? Because some of them might have a grudge." Between all of the devils he's sent back to the Hells and the divine Champions he's beaten bloody...
"If there are visitors present when I am not, it is not a situation that will last long or that you will need to concern yourself with." He is... absolutely confident and in fact downright confident on that point. If a devil is messing around the Manor, they have chosen the wrong person to mess with, several times over.
"The odd mortal providing a service is a possibility." And then: "Two may not be a household, but three is and you are part of it now." And truthfully Zerxus' life would be much easier and safer, both in being able to work and not being targeted, with that both known and clear.
Zerxus is fine stopping, his stare just as aghast.
"No one?" Admittedly, the circle of people with that level of trust has shrunk for him - the stakes are so much higher now - but it at least exists.
It makes sense, broadly speaking - devils are cutthroat, and fairly or not Asmodeus is considered the ultimate Betrayer - but he figured there would be exceptions. People aren't meant to live like that, he doesn't care if they're humans or devils or gods.
The layers of confusion and surprise that are happening here are truly impressive. The question startled and confused Bruce. Bruce's answer left Zerxus in disbelief. Bruce is disbelieving that the answer isn't obvious.
Even abruptly understanding that it is being asked out of some sort of concern isn't less confusing. The whole thing does remind him of his childhood, though, and that isn't a time period he would like to revisit.
"I trust you alone in the Manor." Because he can give the man orders he must obey and also trust is not the right word, but whatever. It can serve as a deflection. "My father's the Lord of Hell."
His expression says it all, in response to that deflection - that absolutely doesn't count - and somehow it only sharpens at the explanation.
"Your father is one of the gods who bound themselves to an entire world, shaping the life here forever. And then he was ready to throw it in the trash when things got difficult, which..."
He waves a hand. Yes, yes, shitty of the Betrayers, everyone has heard it.
"But my point is - they feel a connection to each other, and they made a connection to Exandria." (Earth, Gaea, Midgard, Terra; it has a lot of names, all these thousands of years later.) "Isn't that why he's so angry, being cut off from both for so long?"
And it's more than bitter frustration in his voice, in his expression; they're strained with bleak sympathy, too.
They are within a hundred yards of the Manor's gate. Bruce stops walking there, entirely.
That is not the response he expected, even having decided this particular mortal has more empathy than sense. He's still not even convinced the man isn't trying to die. Or leverage his soul for something, which would be worse.
Frustration and sympathy?
Well. It isn't wholly unreasonable, from Bruce's somewhat... biased knowledge, but it is unreasonable to be coming from Zerxus.
"He's certainly angry. He's also the Lord of Hell." What the fuck is happening here?
With a slight shrug, "And Kord is the Lord of Storms, which killed thousands of people a year before this war started."
Again, that utter lack of either contempt or reverence.
"Obviously your father's side cares less about collateral damage, which I'd love to have words with him about, but - they're all responsible for this. None of it had to happen this way."
...Well. You've certainly hooked an interesting one.
Asmodeus has never sounded so earnestly stunned, when he wasn't trying to lull people into a false sense of security.
He understands very well (at least as well as he possibly can) why Asmodeus is stunned by what Zerxus just said - and believes. Especially given Zerxus city of origin. He can understand, too, that his father finding Zerxus 'interesting' is likely not going to end well for anyone.
His reaction is anger that is fueled almost (almost) wholly by anger. Absolute, eyes filled with fire, teeth exposed rage. Because it feels dismissive, of both Asmodeus the potential threat he represents - and dismissing that comes with an unacceptable level of vulnerability. Because of the implications that he should have friends - which feels similar but different. Because he knows his father and what Zerxus is missing.
And because fuck the other gods. One of them picked him up, and it was the Lord of Hell.
He not only does not come up with an audible response beyond a growl, that's the closest thing to an articulate response in his head.
"I don't argue." He says that while pretty much just grabbing Zerxus by the throat and pivoting him around so his back is to the Manor. Then... releases him with an at least somewhat controlled shove. "Now go inside."
He stumbles a little, but maintains both his balance and his deeply unimpressed expression - though that isn't exactly directed at Bruce himself.
"Clearly." The word is hoarse, but otherwise steady; he'd try to linger just to make a point but it doesn't seem worth fighting the compulsion this early, so he whirls around to stride to the door.
In fairness I don't have to live with him. Asmodeus has transitioned smoothly to arch amusement.
Both gates and door open for him, and Bruce takes a moment or two to reign in his temper. There is no need for that nonsense and he really does not want it to continue for a year. It's just physically unpleasant.
(Also, there's some very buried and suppressed at least attempt to feel guilty about it, but that's also dangerous and just cannot happen. So, at least mostly, does not).
At this stage I believe he'd enjoy that more than you
But he's following Zerxus along, and into what is... very much overdone foyer. SOmething about crystal and black marble. Dark, but... reflective.
The look he gives Zerxus is somewhat amused - and an awful lot like he hadn't just been enraged and grabbed him by the throat.
"You'll be more comfortable with the kitchen and upstairs." Not... a lot but at least the spaces that he doesn't live in and no one sees are less... of a showcase.
That's much what he expected, and if he's a bit relieved by it... maybe it has something to do with his own desire to be done with this.
...and maybe it has a lot more to do with wanting to feed the tired mortal and put him to bed.
It's both. It's definitely both.
The Manor continues to be dark, strangely reflective and lit ...oddly, as they move through the space, with relatively deep shadows.
Until they reach the kitchen. Which, while still black and very mirrored is decently lit, spacious, and - well, it's still Ominous because of who lives there but much more normal.
And there's already a decent, heavy, meal on the table and a quick glance when Bruce flips open a cupboard to be sure shows that it is stocked.
"Sit down and eat." He is going to sit down and... drink coffee? Leave him alone, he has his vices. Some of them are murder and shadows and terror, some of them are bitter bean water.
Zerxus, who fully expected to get in there and make a sandwich or something, just - well, he's listening, his feet are moving him towards the table to sit down, but he sure is staring the whole time.
It's not new, exactly; it just reminds him of a world that doesn't exist anymore. The mages of Avalir conjured feasts on a regular basis.
It never tasted quite right, at least not to him. In this case, though, he really can't tell; it's been too long since he had a meal like this. Even back home they had to be careful with portions, their spices were limited, they could only grow or slaughter certain kinds of food.
It's a full fifteen minutes before he notices that Bruce did in fact sit down with him.
"...Does the caffeine do anything or do you just like the taste?"
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"I ate rations a few hours ago." He had plenty left for the trip back, but he sent those home with Tempus. "Lunch in the air isn't as romantic as it sounds."
(It used to be. He isn't thinking about it.)
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He also is gradually relaxing. Not completely but not having an additional participant in this conversation makes that easier. Though he has not one. single. doubt. that it is being observed.
Maybe not so much, later, or if things are truly boring enough, but this new? Nope. That is a level of fire he will not be discounting as near certain rather than even probable. (It's always possible).
"I'll feed you after we've worked out what we'll be dressing you in, though I'm leaning heavily toward red." It'd be nice contrast to how strongly Bruce prefers things to be primarily black. "Then make some sort of arrangement so you can feed yourself while you're here."
He's a devil. It's not high on his priority list, usually. Care and keeping of a mortal skills are on par with 'feed it and clothe it so it doesn't die'. Good luck on things like 'where to shower'.
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"If I told you I'm more of a 'blues and greys' sort of person..." There's not a lot of optimism in his voice. It's not like he hates red, at least. "But I'm not picky about food."
It's pretty damn hard to be in a world-spanning divine war, granted, but it was true even in the life he used to have, the one that increasingly feels like it belonged to someone else.
"And I can make my own. ...Does anyone else live there, besides you?"
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He keeps walking, moving easily through the streets and not paying much attention to do so. Very much honing in on 'home' though, and doing so very directly. "I'll accept gray. Blue, no. You'll be very clearly a member of the household. You're going to look the part." That means blue is all the way out, thank you. ...also he just doesn't like it much.
Then shoots Zerxus a strange look in response to that question. Not that it is a question, but that the answer seems really obvious to him. "No one lives there besides me. There are occasional visitors and staff. You'll be left largely alone." But not unsupervised.
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(Evandrin hadn't yet become First Knight when Zerxus first moved in, but he was steadily climbing the ranks and came from a wealthy family besides; surprising absolutely nobody he tended to get along with the servants better than his in-laws, but he felt comfortable in the place far more quickly than he expected.
Somehow, he doesn't think he should count on that.)
"...What kind of visitors should I be expecting? Because some of them might have a grudge." Between all of the devils he's sent back to the Hells and the divine Champions he's beaten bloody...
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"The odd mortal providing a service is a possibility." And then: "Two may not be a household, but three is and you are part of it now." And truthfully Zerxus' life would be much easier and safer, both in being able to work and not being targeted, with that both known and clear.
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The way Bruce talks about those visitors sets off alarm bells that have nothing to do with danger, per se, just - bog standard concern.
"Do you...have any friends?"
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"That I'd trust alone in my residence? No!."
That he'd trust around Zerxus without direct supervision? Also no. That he'd trust at all? With anything? No!
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"No one?" Admittedly, the circle of people with that level of trust has shrunk for him - the stakes are so much higher now - but it at least exists.
It makes sense, broadly speaking - devils are cutthroat, and fairly or not Asmodeus is considered the ultimate Betrayer - but he figured there would be exceptions. People aren't meant to live like that, he doesn't care if they're humans or devils or gods.
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Even abruptly understanding that it is being asked out of some sort of concern isn't less confusing. The whole thing does remind him of his childhood, though, and that isn't a time period he would like to revisit.
"I trust you alone in the Manor." Because he can give the man orders he must obey and also trust is not the right word, but whatever. It can serve as a deflection. "My father's the Lord of Hell."
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"Your father is one of the gods who bound themselves to an entire world, shaping the life here forever. And then he was ready to throw it in the trash when things got difficult, which..."
He waves a hand. Yes, yes, shitty of the Betrayers, everyone has heard it.
"But my point is - they feel a connection to each other, and they made a connection to Exandria." (Earth, Gaea, Midgard, Terra; it has a lot of names, all these thousands of years later.) "Isn't that why he's so angry, being cut off from both for so long?"
And it's more than bitter frustration in his voice, in his expression; they're strained with bleak sympathy, too.
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That is not the response he expected, even having decided this particular mortal has more empathy than sense. He's still not even convinced the man isn't trying to die. Or leverage his soul for something, which would be worse.
Frustration and sympathy?
Well. It isn't wholly unreasonable, from Bruce's somewhat... biased knowledge, but it is unreasonable to be coming from Zerxus.
"He's certainly angry. He's also the Lord of Hell." What the fuck is happening here?
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Again, that utter lack of either contempt or reverence.
"Obviously your father's side cares less about collateral damage, which I'd love to have words with him about, but - they're all responsible for this. None of it had to happen this way."
...Well. You've certainly hooked an interesting one.
Asmodeus has never sounded so earnestly stunned, when he wasn't trying to lull people into a false sense of security.
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His reaction is anger that is fueled almost (almost) wholly by anger. Absolute, eyes filled with fire, teeth exposed rage. Because it feels dismissive, of both Asmodeus the potential threat he represents - and dismissing that comes with an unacceptable level of vulnerability. Because of the implications that he should have friends - which feels similar but different. Because he knows his father and what Zerxus is missing.
And because fuck the other gods. One of them picked him up, and it was the Lord of Hell.
He not only does not come up with an audible response beyond a growl, that's the closest thing to an articulate response in his head.
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Zerxus steps forward, hands loose at his sides and gaze - stern, more than anything else.
"I hope that isn't how he taught you to have an argument."
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Interesting my ass.
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"Clearly." The word is hoarse, but otherwise steady; he'd try to linger just to make a point but it doesn't seem worth fighting the compulsion this early, so he whirls around to stride to the door.
In fairness I don't have to live with him. Asmodeus has transitioned smoothly to arch amusement.
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(Also, there's some very buried and suppressed at least attempt to feel guilty about it, but that's also dangerous and just cannot happen. So, at least mostly, does not).
At this stage I believe he'd enjoy that more than you
But he's following Zerxus along, and into what is... very much overdone foyer. SOmething about crystal and black marble. Dark, but... reflective.
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"It's..." Grand. Daunting. Lonely.
Absurdly it reminds him, if only in the broadest sense, of the Palazzo Por'co.
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"You'll be more comfortable with the kitchen and upstairs." Not... a lot but at least the spaces that he doesn't live in and no one sees are less... of a showcase.
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"Are we doing the whole tour?"
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"Do you want the whole tour or would you prefer to be shown the areas of most relevance to you, so that you can settle in sooner rather than later?"
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Besides, since Bruce had mentioned it he's increasingly aware of how hungry he is, and how much rest he hasn't had.
"Let's do the streamlined version."
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...and maybe it has a lot more to do with wanting to feed the tired mortal and put him to bed.
It's both. It's definitely both.
The Manor continues to be dark, strangely reflective and lit ...oddly, as they move through the space, with relatively deep shadows.
Until they reach the kitchen. Which, while still black and very mirrored is decently lit, spacious, and - well, it's still Ominous because of who lives there but much more normal.
And there's already a decent, heavy, meal on the table and a quick glance when Bruce flips open a cupboard to be sure shows that it is stocked.
"Sit down and eat." He is going to sit down and... drink coffee? Leave him alone, he has his vices. Some of them are murder and shadows and terror, some of them are bitter bean water.
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It's not new, exactly; it just reminds him of a world that doesn't exist anymore. The mages of Avalir conjured feasts on a regular basis.
It never tasted quite right, at least not to him. In this case, though, he really can't tell; it's been too long since he had a meal like this. Even back home they had to be careful with portions, their spices were limited, they could only grow or slaughter certain kinds of food.
It's a full fifteen minutes before he notices that Bruce did in fact sit down with him.
"...Does the caffeine do anything or do you just like the taste?"
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