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?"
Bruce is leaned back in his chair watching the entire time Zerxus is eating, watching him with... satisfaction.
Not for any nefarious reason, but simply because it is satisfying.
He knows the man was hungry and that what he was likely eating before was nowhere near as... indulgent?
He's almost surprised when Zerxus asks his question.
"I can't be positive. I like it, but I've had it for so many years that I've long since forgotten whether it ever had any effect on me or I've just developed a tolerance. At a guess it doesn't."
"Do you know if it tastes the same for you as it would a human? What about alcohol, is - " He cuts himself off with a slight, rueful shake of his head.
"Sorry. ...We're always cooking for new sorts of people." Many of them tieflings, because so many settlements turn them away. That fiendish heritage also makes a lot of things unpredictable - like what tolerances they may have, how different senses like taste are - and he doesn't have exactly get to quiz devils about this kind of thing.
"I've no idea," he admits. "I have very few and very, very vague memories of being human and none of them involve coffee, or alcohol," he says, dryly. "Nor do I expect I'd ever had either."
There is definite, solid, confirmation of fact in there.
Though he is a devil so he could be lying and reciting a rumor he knows. Could have started.
It's neither but technically possible and he will lean into that deniability should he be given any reason at all.
He knows the rumours. He didn't have the context to pry any truth from them, so he didn't try. Until now, gone utterly still, his gaze stricken.
It's so utterly, viscerally clear that he believes it, and he won't elaborate on why. Let Bruce think it's gullibility, when really -
He could choose to decide that it's a lie, and hurt someone whose entire world was shattered, whose childhood was stolen. Or he could choose not to, and be considered foolish.
It's not even a question.
"How old were you?" He's set his fork down. He's still holding the steak knife.
He lifts his eyebrows and points back at Zerxus' plate. There's no order there, but there is certainly a prompt to pick his fork up, or at least remember that food exists.
The lifted eyebrows and faint amusement fits the rest of the conversation, too. ...Or rather doesn't, but fits the 'am I lying or not' game he's very carefully playing. Holding that idea at the front of his mind and not reacting to the topic or Zerxus' response on any deeper level.
"Based on the timing of events, somewhere between seven and nine." He isn't more clear. "Why do you ask?"
He'll remember before it gets cold, but right now - he's thinking of the first time he saw Elias in Evandrin's arms and knew he loved him. Right now he's thinking of his son's face when they fled CathmoÃra, barely outflying the shockwave, clinging to the only parent he had left.
Right now that knife is flaring with starlight, and his voice is half growl.
Bruce's eyebrows can't get higher but the expression on his face shifts to subtly irritated. "I cannot think of a single reason you would be angry at all."
Flat, and it's not even any flatter for the intrusion of his father's laughter into his mind. He doesn't like that amusement, but he does understand it and it isn't immediately threatening.
"Both because it has nothing to do with you and because saving children seems the sort of nonsense you'd approve of."
"You'll accept the destruction of entire cities by gods, but draw the line at one bringing home an orphaned child and raising them as their own? What an interesting stance."
Bruce isn't sure if he's intrigued, amused, seriously annoyed or all three. It's all three. The last at the lack of logic as much as... a very real, if somewhat twisted loyalty to Asmodeus. His father saved him and raised him. That he can also be terrifying and brutal simply is.
He's taking this very personally. Which of course makes sense given his son, but also: Very mortal of him, in the the basis of all that self-righteous... indignation.
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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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Not for any nefarious reason, but simply because it is satisfying.
He knows the man was hungry and that what he was likely eating before was nowhere near as... indulgent?
He's almost surprised when Zerxus asks his question.
"I can't be positive. I like it, but I've had it for so many years that I've long since forgotten whether it ever had any effect on me or I've just developed a tolerance. At a guess it doesn't."
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"Sorry. ...We're always cooking for new sorts of people." Many of them tieflings, because so many settlements turn them away. That fiendish heritage also makes a lot of things unpredictable - like what tolerances they may have, how different senses like taste are - and he doesn't have exactly get to quiz devils about this kind of thing.
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There is definite, solid, confirmation of fact in there.
Though he is a devil so he could be lying and reciting a rumor he knows. Could have started.
It's neither but technically possible and he will lean into that deniability should he be given any reason at all.
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It's so utterly, viscerally clear that he believes it, and he won't elaborate on why. Let Bruce think it's gullibility, when really -
He could choose to decide that it's a lie, and hurt someone whose entire world was shattered, whose childhood was stolen. Or he could choose not to, and be considered foolish.
It's not even a question.
"How old were you?" He's set his fork down. He's still holding the steak knife.
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The lifted eyebrows and faint amusement fits the rest of the conversation, too. ...Or rather doesn't, but fits the 'am I lying or not' game he's very carefully playing. Holding that idea at the front of his mind and not reacting to the topic or Zerxus' response on any deeper level.
"Based on the timing of events, somewhere between seven and nine." He isn't more clear. "Why do you ask?"
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Right now that knife is flaring with starlight, and his voice is half growl.
"I just want to know how angry I should be."
Asmodeus's laughter chimes in Bruce's head.
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Flat, and it's not even any flatter for the intrusion of his father's laughter into his mind. He doesn't like that amusement, but he does understand it and it isn't immediately threatening.
"Both because it has nothing to do with you and because saving children seems the sort of nonsense you'd approve of."
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"He's a god. He didn't need to drag you into the Hells to save you." He's picking the fork back up, now, but his gaze remains heated.
Ah, there's a paladin's self-righteousness. Of course he knows better. There's something downright intrigued beneath the arch amusement, though.
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Bruce isn't sure if he's intrigued, amused, seriously annoyed or all three. It's all three. The last at the lack of logic as much as... a very real, if somewhat twisted loyalty to Asmodeus. His father saved him and raised him. That he can also be terrifying and brutal simply is.
He's taking this very personally. Which of course makes sense given his son, but also: Very mortal of him, in the the basis of all that self-righteous... indignation.
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