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beboth[[cw: Ramsay Bolton is a walking trigger, violence, allusions to torture but it’s pretty light all considering. ]
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Jul. 3rd, 2019
beboth
Memory Share: The Beginning of the End
Jul. 3rd, 2019 05:08 pmsauntervaguelydownward[ It wasn’t a dark and stormy night by any means, but the forces of evil don’t strictly work under the cover of bad weather. It’s not often that you have to answer to Downstairs, but this meeting is supposedly very important. Important enough for himyou to be running late to. Not your fault, really.
No no no no no no no!
Oh, Mamma mia! Mamma mia!
Mamma mia, let me go
Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me for me for me!
You shift the Bentley into park as you enter the cemetery, leaving the lights on as they illuminate the figures of Hastur and Ligur in the distance. You’re really not looking forward to this, but it’s a formality and all part of the job.
Still, you saunter with no real rush over to the Dukes of Hell.
Hail Satan! Both of them raise their arm in the air in a salute to their King. You swing his arm up in a wave as you draw near. ]
Er, hi, guys. Sorry I’m late, but you know how it is on the A40 at Denham. I tried to cut up towards --
Now that we are all here, let us recount the deeds of the day. [ Hastur wastes no time getting down to business, his face void of expression and his tone thoroughly done already. ]
‘Course. Deeds. Yeah.
I’ve tempted a priest. As he walked down the street, he saw all the pretty girls in the sun. I put doubt into his mind. He should have been a Saint- within a decade, we shall have him.
Yeah, yeah. Nice one. [ You smile, though it is a very formal and strained one. You glance over to Ligur, who begins promptly, pleased with himself. ]
I have corrupted a politician. Let him think that a tiny bribe wouldn’t hurt. Within a year, we shall have him.
Alright, you’ll like this. I brought down every London area mobile phone network tonight. [ You grin ear to ear, even through Hastur and Ligur’s confused silence. Hastur is the first to speak, and his eyebrows raise, unimpressed. ]
..Yeah?
Yeah! And it wasn’t easy--
What exactly has that done to secure souls for our Master?
Oh, come on!! Think about it. Fifteen million pissed off people going ‘round taking it out on each other?
[ Ligur harumphs. ] It’s not exactly..craftsmanship.
Well, Head Office don’t seem to mind. They love me down there, guys. Times are changing. So.. [ You sniff, shrugging a shoulder. ] So. What’s up?
This is. [ It’s then you notice the wicker picnic basket Hastur has in hand, which he lifts. You know what this means, and a lead weight forms in your gut at the thought. Your eyebrows raise in disbelief. ]
No.
Yes.
[ You give the basket another stare, feeling the implication. ] Already?
Yes.
And it’s up to me?
Yes. [ They both say it in unison before Hastur shoves the basket closer to you. ]
You know, this-- look-- [ You grimace, floundering for the right thing to say in this situation. ] This really--- it isn’t really my scene.
[ Ligur looks intrigued, though his tone doesn’t change. ] Your scene? Your starring role. Take it.
Like you said- times are changing.
They come to an end, for a start.
Why me?
They love you down there. And what an opportunity! Ligur here would give his right arm to be you tonight.
[ Ligur looks like he’d love nothing more than to drive a blade through your eyeball. ] Or someone’s right arm, anyway.
Sign here. [ Hastur thrusts out a clipboard with a document attached to it- a signature of receipt of the Antichrist. You’re reluctant, but clearly have no choice in the matter, so you lick your finger and immediately, flames burst at your fingertips. You sign your signature, or rather, your sigil, into the paper and it bursts into flame on contact. You pull your hand away, shaking your singed fingers and look at the pair unimpressed. ]
Now what?
Await further instructions. Why so glum? The moment we’ve been working toward for all these centuries is at hand!
..Centuries. Yeah.
Our moment of eternal triumph awaits.
Triumph. [ You say it through gritted teeth as your brain works to figure out what the HELL to do. ]
You will be a tool of that glorious destiny.
Glorious...tool-- Yeahp. [ You nod haltingly and bite the metaphorical bullet. ] Okay. I’ll uhm..I’ll be off now. Get it over with. Not that I want to get it over with, but I’ll be popping along. Okay. Fine. Yep. [ You purse your lips, resigning yourself to this and you saunter back toward the Bentley as best you can whilst carrying the Antichrist in a wicker basket to your right. You call over your shoulder to the other two demons. ]
Ciao!
What’s that mean?
Ciao. It’s Italian.. Means..food.
No no no no no no no!
Oh, Mamma mia! Mamma mia!
Mamma mia, let me go
Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me for me for me!
You shift the Bentley into park as you enter the cemetery, leaving the lights on as they illuminate the figures of Hastur and Ligur in the distance. You’re really not looking forward to this, but it’s a formality and all part of the job.
Still, you saunter with no real rush over to the Dukes of Hell.
Hail Satan! Both of them raise their arm in the air in a salute to their King. You swing his arm up in a wave as you draw near. ]
Er, hi, guys. Sorry I’m late, but you know how it is on the A40 at Denham. I tried to cut up towards --
Now that we are all here, let us recount the deeds of the day. [ Hastur wastes no time getting down to business, his face void of expression and his tone thoroughly done already. ]
‘Course. Deeds. Yeah.
I’ve tempted a priest. As he walked down the street, he saw all the pretty girls in the sun. I put doubt into his mind. He should have been a Saint- within a decade, we shall have him.
Yeah, yeah. Nice one. [ You smile, though it is a very formal and strained one. You glance over to Ligur, who begins promptly, pleased with himself. ]
I have corrupted a politician. Let him think that a tiny bribe wouldn’t hurt. Within a year, we shall have him.
Alright, you’ll like this. I brought down every London area mobile phone network tonight. [ You grin ear to ear, even through Hastur and Ligur’s confused silence. Hastur is the first to speak, and his eyebrows raise, unimpressed. ]
..Yeah?
Yeah! And it wasn’t easy--
What exactly has that done to secure souls for our Master?
Oh, come on!! Think about it. Fifteen million pissed off people going ‘round taking it out on each other?
[ Ligur harumphs. ] It’s not exactly..craftsmanship.
Well, Head Office don’t seem to mind. They love me down there, guys. Times are changing. So.. [ You sniff, shrugging a shoulder. ] So. What’s up?
This is. [ It’s then you notice the wicker picnic basket Hastur has in hand, which he lifts. You know what this means, and a lead weight forms in your gut at the thought. Your eyebrows raise in disbelief. ]
No.
Yes.
[ You give the basket another stare, feeling the implication. ] Already?
Yes.
And it’s up to me?
Yes. [ They both say it in unison before Hastur shoves the basket closer to you. ]
You know, this-- look-- [ You grimace, floundering for the right thing to say in this situation. ] This really--- it isn’t really my scene.
[ Ligur looks intrigued, though his tone doesn’t change. ] Your scene? Your starring role. Take it.
Like you said- times are changing.
They come to an end, for a start.
Why me?
They love you down there. And what an opportunity! Ligur here would give his right arm to be you tonight.
[ Ligur looks like he’d love nothing more than to drive a blade through your eyeball. ] Or someone’s right arm, anyway.
Sign here. [ Hastur thrusts out a clipboard with a document attached to it- a signature of receipt of the Antichrist. You’re reluctant, but clearly have no choice in the matter, so you lick your finger and immediately, flames burst at your fingertips. You sign your signature, or rather, your sigil, into the paper and it bursts into flame on contact. You pull your hand away, shaking your singed fingers and look at the pair unimpressed. ]
Now what?
Await further instructions. Why so glum? The moment we’ve been working toward for all these centuries is at hand!
..Centuries. Yeah.
Our moment of eternal triumph awaits.
Triumph. [ You say it through gritted teeth as your brain works to figure out what the HELL to do. ]
You will be a tool of that glorious destiny.
Glorious...tool-- Yeahp. [ You nod haltingly and bite the metaphorical bullet. ] Okay. I’ll uhm..I’ll be off now. Get it over with. Not that I want to get it over with, but I’ll be popping along. Okay. Fine. Yep. [ You purse your lips, resigning yourself to this and you saunter back toward the Bentley as best you can whilst carrying the Antichrist in a wicker basket to your right. You call over your shoulder to the other two demons. ]
Ciao!
What’s that mean?
Ciao. It’s Italian.. Means..food.