Bloody Sundae
Feb. 24th, 2006 08:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
keire_ke*glares at the prolific plot bunny*
Guest star appearance!
A nondescript door on a nondescript street banged open. A very distinctive figure virtually flew through it, took the nearest turn grasping at a wall for stability, and continued running at a speed available to certain large felines across the open space of a savannah.
“Admittedly, he did have a point,” a man approached the doorway, looking over the damage. “Though I still will make him pay for the door.”
“Rightfully so,” another voice agreed. Within another minute, the door swung shut and the surprisingly homey bar within resumed its usual itinerary.
Three alleys down the running figure was building up a momentum. So did the string of curses emitted from his mouth.
A couple of alleys down a late group of demons lay stretched on the floor, still wondering what hit them. In a figurative sense, that is. All of them found themselves rather lacking in the life department.
A little further down two men were having a silent disagreement, the kind that, in a back alley, would usually be settled with a broken bottle and a piece of ex-furniture. These two were a little more sophisticated – a rather mean looking sword clashed against a polished length of wood. The scuffle went on for several minutes, growing more ferocious along the way. The shorter of the fighters exhibited a rather worrying insane grin, while the other did his best to resemble a runaway sculpture, which hadn’t yet mastered the use of anything from the neck up.
The fight was rather evenly matched and would have continued for a while longer, had a third person failed to appear. Between them. With one hand stopping the descent of the stick and an even meaner sword blocking the taller of the duellists.
“I can’t let you out of my sight, can I, Heero,” Duo commented, noting that the three of them formed a rather interesting picture.
“He a friend of yours?” the shortest man asked with some surprise evident in his voice. “Oh. My apologies. He seemed to be a total bat-shit crazy lunatic.”
“And that is mutually exclusive since when?”
“Good point. My apologies,” he addressed Heero, who grunted out a reply. “Boy is he talkative.”
“What are you doing here?” the blue-eyed man asked Duo, his voice carefully neutral.
“Well, someone accidentally mentioned you’re out, and you hadn’t been spoon-fed Demonology 101 yet. Something which had, regrettably, escaped me. Since without it you are likely to take off some unsuspecting and innocent demon’s head, or have your own off, I thought I’d better follow quick.” He cast a rather theatrical glance around the alley, counting the corpses.
“Spit it out then.”
“Spit what out?”
“The Demonology 101.”
“Ah, it’s not that simple, I fear. Now be a good little bloodsucker and come with me to dinner. We’ll assault a blushing virgin or three, maul, mutilate and bathe in the screams of terror.”
“I don’t drink blood.”
“In which case we’re go to Wufei’s. Homemade meals, mauling of the victim included. I’m buying. And everyone is invited.” He added, ruffling the already messy brown hair of the third man.
“I never doubted your lack of sanity,” he commented.
“Shows you’re smart.”
“People tell me I’m an idiot.”
“All the more surprised they will be when their heads roll.”
“Excuse me,” Heero finally felt he was ignored for long enough. “Who are you?” he asked, not too politely, indicating his recent opponent.
“Ah, I knew I was forgetting something,” Duo positively fluttered about. “Heero, this is Gokũ. It helps if you think of him as a demon. Gokũ, this is Heero. Heero is a depressed high vampire.”
“I am not depressed.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“I’m not. I’m suicidal.”
“Ah. It’s the subtleties of life that make all the difference. Now let us go, I shall buy us dinner.”
“Forgive him father, for he does not know what he’s about to do,” Gokũ quipped poetically, whirling the staff away to places unknown.
“Insert food, chew, swallow. Unless there’s been a significant change in decorum when I wasn’t looking, I rather think I know what I’m about to do.”
“Offer me food?”
“Among other things.”
“I’m not hungry,” Heero declared.
“You are not being invited, dear friend. You’re being taken, whether you want to or not. Now, granted, I will not shove food down your throat, but I hope you will indulge, at least a little. Food is good.” The vampire grunted noncommittally and fell silent.
“I doubt there ever was a truer word spoken,” Gokũ said with a smirk.
“’Politicians only tell the truth when they say other politicians lie’?”
“I stand corrected.”
By the time the three of them pushed open the slightly damaged door of the bar Duo exited in a rather dramatic fashion not that long before, Heero was thoroughly confused. Intellectually his mind kept up with what the other two were saying – it was not nuclear physics or the intricacies of genetics. It was the part why they found it necessary to provide a comedic relief that bothered him.
He might be suicidal, but it’s not like he tried jumping off buildings or anything. Never mind that was because he knew perfectly well that it would merely hurt a lot but have little effect on his state of liveliness.
“Ah, good evening, again!” Duo beamed at the occupants of the bar from the vantage point of the main door. A vaguely amused chorus of assorted greetings responded in kind, raising from about a dozen of mouths – or at least facial orifices. Heero had standards where mouths were involved, and many a creature here did not achieve it.
“Duo. I hope you are aware you’re still paying for the door,” an even voice sounded from the bar. The man wasn’t looking in their direction, as far as Heero could tell he hadn’t looked up since they walked in, too engrossed in polishing a tall glass.
“Put it on my tab,” Duo waved the claim off happily. “Can we get some food please?” Now the barman looked up.
“Enough to sink a battleship this time?” Gokũ waved at him cheerfully. “I see. Titanic it is.”
“And Heero will have a Bloody Sundae.”
“I thought I told you I don’t drink blood.”
“A Bloody Sundae, like I said.” The vampire gave him a look that could level a concrete wall. “Relax, man. Not a drop of haemoglobin in this one, I assure you. Perfect for quitting, lovers of the colour red and people who enjoy slaughtering a field-full of innocent raspberries.”
“There’s something about the way you say ‘innocent raspberries’ that bothers me.”
“I tend to have that effect on people, thank you.” It was no use, Heero reminded himself time after time. Whatever he said, Duo was right there with a witty retort.
He grumbled at the universe in general. He didn’t want to smile, god damn it. He wanted to die. Was that too much too ask?
Apparently it was. They found a table, which minutes later was laden with little cups and tiny kettles with green tea. The promised Sundae found its way moments later. Just as Duo said, it have little to do with vampirism and everything to do with berries. Heero couldn’t shake the feeling that if he actually consumed the whole thing, the ghost of berry fields past would haunt him for the rest of his days.
Which, considering present company, just might extend into eternity. Still, an eternity of dreaming of berries couldn’t possibly be bad. The vampire sighed and picked the spoon up.
Hidden – quite literally – behind the cup of crimson goodness, he watched, with shock building up, as the assortment of plates on the table moved through various stages of fullness at a speed more appropriate for a kaleidoscope.
“You never eat this much,” he remarked eventually, about one-third into his dessert. “Coming to think of it, you rarely eat.”
“I don’t need to,” Duo replied after swallowing a substantial chunk of a roasted potato. “So I’m not bothered most of the time.”
“Which still does not explain why you are set on consuming your own bodyweight now.”
“I like food. And someone has to keep Gokũ company.” Gokũ was, as impossible as it seemed to Heero, swiftly dealing with two thirds of the served food. “Feel free to help yourself, by the way,” Duo added. “Just make sure you pick stuff from the plates furthest from him, or else you might get your fingers snatched.”
“I resent that comment.”
“Stuff your face,” Duo suggested, picking up a tiny pastry, which made its way onto the table somehow. The other man happily complied.
“As I recall, we were here for Demonology 101.”
“Ah, that. Well, the premise is reasonably simple: basically, a classical demon is a native of another plane of existence. The sub-bed dimension, if you will. It comes here, because life has a better texture. Problem is, a lot of them cannot stand the pressure, or are allergic to stuff. So they go bat-shit crazy. That’s when killing sprees happen. This is pretty much irreversible. They know the risk, and they must sign a disclaimer upon entering. Terms and conditions apply sort of thing.
“The point here is, most of the demons you might encounter around here are happy bunnies.” Heero looked to the left, at the seven foot tall, horned, grunting entity and compared the vision with the ‘happy bunny’ statement. “They have a job, earn their living, support their families. They are citizens, much like everyone else.”
“How can I tell if a demon is off its rocker then?”
“Little clues. If it charges at you brandishing a deadly weapon and screaming, for instance.”
“Do sticks count?” he asked, looking at the golden-eyed demon pointedly.
“You’ll get used to it,” Duo patted his arm sympathetically. “Most of the time you can tell by the eyes. If you feel like you’re staring into a fiery pit of hell, the head ought to come off.”
“You mean, golden, blazing and possessed?”
“It becomes apparent, after a while.” Heero finally saw the bottom of his Sundae. Around the same time the table emptied, by means of a willowy waitress with long, pointy ears. In the silence the shrill ringing of a cell phone sounded particularly obvious. Gokũ answered it with a apologetic expression on his face. Then again, ‘answered’ wasn’t a particularly apt term. He glanced at the caller’s ID, pressed OK and held the device two feet away from his head for about two seconds.
“Of course I got ‘em,” he said calmly, with utmost conviction, once the caller paused to draw a breath. “Yes, I will be back soon.” Duo grinned as the call was disconnected.
“Trouble?”
“You could say that,” Gokũ answered, his expression turning sheepish. “You wouldn’t happen to have a carton of Marlboros on you?”
edit: a bunch of icons.
Guest star appearance!
A nondescript door on a nondescript street banged open. A very distinctive figure virtually flew through it, took the nearest turn grasping at a wall for stability, and continued running at a speed available to certain large felines across the open space of a savannah.
“Admittedly, he did have a point,” a man approached the doorway, looking over the damage. “Though I still will make him pay for the door.”
“Rightfully so,” another voice agreed. Within another minute, the door swung shut and the surprisingly homey bar within resumed its usual itinerary.
Three alleys down the running figure was building up a momentum. So did the string of curses emitted from his mouth.
A couple of alleys down a late group of demons lay stretched on the floor, still wondering what hit them. In a figurative sense, that is. All of them found themselves rather lacking in the life department.
A little further down two men were having a silent disagreement, the kind that, in a back alley, would usually be settled with a broken bottle and a piece of ex-furniture. These two were a little more sophisticated – a rather mean looking sword clashed against a polished length of wood. The scuffle went on for several minutes, growing more ferocious along the way. The shorter of the fighters exhibited a rather worrying insane grin, while the other did his best to resemble a runaway sculpture, which hadn’t yet mastered the use of anything from the neck up.
The fight was rather evenly matched and would have continued for a while longer, had a third person failed to appear. Between them. With one hand stopping the descent of the stick and an even meaner sword blocking the taller of the duellists.
“I can’t let you out of my sight, can I, Heero,” Duo commented, noting that the three of them formed a rather interesting picture.
“He a friend of yours?” the shortest man asked with some surprise evident in his voice. “Oh. My apologies. He seemed to be a total bat-shit crazy lunatic.”
“And that is mutually exclusive since when?”
“Good point. My apologies,” he addressed Heero, who grunted out a reply. “Boy is he talkative.”
“What are you doing here?” the blue-eyed man asked Duo, his voice carefully neutral.
“Well, someone accidentally mentioned you’re out, and you hadn’t been spoon-fed Demonology 101 yet. Something which had, regrettably, escaped me. Since without it you are likely to take off some unsuspecting and innocent demon’s head, or have your own off, I thought I’d better follow quick.” He cast a rather theatrical glance around the alley, counting the corpses.
“Spit it out then.”
“Spit what out?”
“The Demonology 101.”
“Ah, it’s not that simple, I fear. Now be a good little bloodsucker and come with me to dinner. We’ll assault a blushing virgin or three, maul, mutilate and bathe in the screams of terror.”
“I don’t drink blood.”
“In which case we’re go to Wufei’s. Homemade meals, mauling of the victim included. I’m buying. And everyone is invited.” He added, ruffling the already messy brown hair of the third man.
“I never doubted your lack of sanity,” he commented.
“Shows you’re smart.”
“People tell me I’m an idiot.”
“All the more surprised they will be when their heads roll.”
“Excuse me,” Heero finally felt he was ignored for long enough. “Who are you?” he asked, not too politely, indicating his recent opponent.
“Ah, I knew I was forgetting something,” Duo positively fluttered about. “Heero, this is Gokũ. It helps if you think of him as a demon. Gokũ, this is Heero. Heero is a depressed high vampire.”
“I am not depressed.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“I’m not. I’m suicidal.”
“Ah. It’s the subtleties of life that make all the difference. Now let us go, I shall buy us dinner.”
“Forgive him father, for he does not know what he’s about to do,” Gokũ quipped poetically, whirling the staff away to places unknown.
“Insert food, chew, swallow. Unless there’s been a significant change in decorum when I wasn’t looking, I rather think I know what I’m about to do.”
“Offer me food?”
“Among other things.”
“I’m not hungry,” Heero declared.
“You are not being invited, dear friend. You’re being taken, whether you want to or not. Now, granted, I will not shove food down your throat, but I hope you will indulge, at least a little. Food is good.” The vampire grunted noncommittally and fell silent.
“I doubt there ever was a truer word spoken,” Gokũ said with a smirk.
“’Politicians only tell the truth when they say other politicians lie’?”
“I stand corrected.”
By the time the three of them pushed open the slightly damaged door of the bar Duo exited in a rather dramatic fashion not that long before, Heero was thoroughly confused. Intellectually his mind kept up with what the other two were saying – it was not nuclear physics or the intricacies of genetics. It was the part why they found it necessary to provide a comedic relief that bothered him.
He might be suicidal, but it’s not like he tried jumping off buildings or anything. Never mind that was because he knew perfectly well that it would merely hurt a lot but have little effect on his state of liveliness.
“Ah, good evening, again!” Duo beamed at the occupants of the bar from the vantage point of the main door. A vaguely amused chorus of assorted greetings responded in kind, raising from about a dozen of mouths – or at least facial orifices. Heero had standards where mouths were involved, and many a creature here did not achieve it.
“Duo. I hope you are aware you’re still paying for the door,” an even voice sounded from the bar. The man wasn’t looking in their direction, as far as Heero could tell he hadn’t looked up since they walked in, too engrossed in polishing a tall glass.
“Put it on my tab,” Duo waved the claim off happily. “Can we get some food please?” Now the barman looked up.
“Enough to sink a battleship this time?” Gokũ waved at him cheerfully. “I see. Titanic it is.”
“And Heero will have a Bloody Sundae.”
“I thought I told you I don’t drink blood.”
“A Bloody Sundae, like I said.” The vampire gave him a look that could level a concrete wall. “Relax, man. Not a drop of haemoglobin in this one, I assure you. Perfect for quitting, lovers of the colour red and people who enjoy slaughtering a field-full of innocent raspberries.”
“There’s something about the way you say ‘innocent raspberries’ that bothers me.”
“I tend to have that effect on people, thank you.” It was no use, Heero reminded himself time after time. Whatever he said, Duo was right there with a witty retort.
He grumbled at the universe in general. He didn’t want to smile, god damn it. He wanted to die. Was that too much too ask?
Apparently it was. They found a table, which minutes later was laden with little cups and tiny kettles with green tea. The promised Sundae found its way moments later. Just as Duo said, it have little to do with vampirism and everything to do with berries. Heero couldn’t shake the feeling that if he actually consumed the whole thing, the ghost of berry fields past would haunt him for the rest of his days.
Which, considering present company, just might extend into eternity. Still, an eternity of dreaming of berries couldn’t possibly be bad. The vampire sighed and picked the spoon up.
Hidden – quite literally – behind the cup of crimson goodness, he watched, with shock building up, as the assortment of plates on the table moved through various stages of fullness at a speed more appropriate for a kaleidoscope.
“You never eat this much,” he remarked eventually, about one-third into his dessert. “Coming to think of it, you rarely eat.”
“I don’t need to,” Duo replied after swallowing a substantial chunk of a roasted potato. “So I’m not bothered most of the time.”
“Which still does not explain why you are set on consuming your own bodyweight now.”
“I like food. And someone has to keep Gokũ company.” Gokũ was, as impossible as it seemed to Heero, swiftly dealing with two thirds of the served food. “Feel free to help yourself, by the way,” Duo added. “Just make sure you pick stuff from the plates furthest from him, or else you might get your fingers snatched.”
“I resent that comment.”
“Stuff your face,” Duo suggested, picking up a tiny pastry, which made its way onto the table somehow. The other man happily complied.
“As I recall, we were here for Demonology 101.”
“Ah, that. Well, the premise is reasonably simple: basically, a classical demon is a native of another plane of existence. The sub-bed dimension, if you will. It comes here, because life has a better texture. Problem is, a lot of them cannot stand the pressure, or are allergic to stuff. So they go bat-shit crazy. That’s when killing sprees happen. This is pretty much irreversible. They know the risk, and they must sign a disclaimer upon entering. Terms and conditions apply sort of thing.
“The point here is, most of the demons you might encounter around here are happy bunnies.” Heero looked to the left, at the seven foot tall, horned, grunting entity and compared the vision with the ‘happy bunny’ statement. “They have a job, earn their living, support their families. They are citizens, much like everyone else.”
“How can I tell if a demon is off its rocker then?”
“Little clues. If it charges at you brandishing a deadly weapon and screaming, for instance.”
“Do sticks count?” he asked, looking at the golden-eyed demon pointedly.
“You’ll get used to it,” Duo patted his arm sympathetically. “Most of the time you can tell by the eyes. If you feel like you’re staring into a fiery pit of hell, the head ought to come off.”
“You mean, golden, blazing and possessed?”
“It becomes apparent, after a while.” Heero finally saw the bottom of his Sundae. Around the same time the table emptied, by means of a willowy waitress with long, pointy ears. In the silence the shrill ringing of a cell phone sounded particularly obvious. Gokũ answered it with a apologetic expression on his face. Then again, ‘answered’ wasn’t a particularly apt term. He glanced at the caller’s ID, pressed OK and held the device two feet away from his head for about two seconds.
“Of course I got ‘em,” he said calmly, with utmost conviction, once the caller paused to draw a breath. “Yes, I will be back soon.” Duo grinned as the call was disconnected.
“Trouble?”
“You could say that,” Gokũ answered, his expression turning sheepish. “You wouldn’t happen to have a carton of Marlboros on you?”
edit: a bunch of icons.
