"Sinking" continued
Jan. 4th, 2005 04:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeriendhalWarnings: Rated R for drug and sexual references.
High, high on the Range./Cuz Mescaline will drive ya insane, Fluerity sang to himself as he stepped over the writhing bodies of demons and souls on the floor of the Brothel. Where the brownies are hash./And we take only cash./Cuz your credit goes straight down the drain. He waved at a Balseraph guarding the entrance to the back rooms, where Andre’s offices were located, and asked, “Where’s your boss, demon?”
“The Beautiful Prince is downstairs, Lord Fluerity,” he answered. “Do you wish to be escorted to him?”
“I think I know where he is,” the Prince of Drugs answered. No doubt Andre was busy testing to see how weak Christopher really was. Of course Fluerity had already proved the cherub’s unworthiness to his own satisfaction, after the little idiot had fallen to Druiel’s transparent ploy and his own alchemical knockout pill.
He made his way downstairs, listening to the tortured screaming of souls in Andrealphus’ dungeon with satisfaction. The masochists who paid for the priviledge of coming down there never quite seemed to understand that they would always get more than they bargained for. The weaker ones just kept coming back for it though.
A growl at the end of the hall attracted his attention, coming from the cell door that was guarded by a pair of Calabim. What the Hell was Andre doing to the little weakling now?
“Ah, Fluerity, I was hoping you’d come by soon,” Andre greeted when he entered the cell. “I’ve been having a little chat with Christopher about his predecessor. I’m afraid he hasn’t been taking it well.”
The winged bear, with vestigial horns, and a scaly, broken tail, let out a howl of grief and leaped for Andre’s throat, only to be pulled short by the collar around it’s neck.
TBC
High, high on the Range./Cuz Mescaline will drive ya insane, Fluerity sang to himself as he stepped over the writhing bodies of demons and souls on the floor of the Brothel. Where the brownies are hash./And we take only cash./Cuz your credit goes straight down the drain. He waved at a Balseraph guarding the entrance to the back rooms, where Andre’s offices were located, and asked, “Where’s your boss, demon?”
“The Beautiful Prince is downstairs, Lord Fluerity,” he answered. “Do you wish to be escorted to him?”
“I think I know where he is,” the Prince of Drugs answered. No doubt Andre was busy testing to see how weak Christopher really was. Of course Fluerity had already proved the cherub’s unworthiness to his own satisfaction, after the little idiot had fallen to Druiel’s transparent ploy and his own alchemical knockout pill.
He made his way downstairs, listening to the tortured screaming of souls in Andrealphus’ dungeon with satisfaction. The masochists who paid for the priviledge of coming down there never quite seemed to understand that they would always get more than they bargained for. The weaker ones just kept coming back for it though.
A growl at the end of the hall attracted his attention, coming from the cell door that was guarded by a pair of Calabim. What the Hell was Andre doing to the little weakling now?
“Ah, Fluerity, I was hoping you’d come by soon,” Andre greeted when he entered the cell. “I’ve been having a little chat with Christopher about his predecessor. I’m afraid he hasn’t been taking it well.”
The winged bear, with vestigial horns, and a scaly, broken tail, let out a howl of grief and leaped for Andre’s throat, only to be pulled short by the collar around it’s neck.
TBC
