"Yet what would change?" He kept that eye contact. "Should they not be accepting of your choices? Your freedoms? You ability to do good or indulge and no punishment for either?"
"I would lose my Grace, my wings. These things are important to me," he responds, suddenly more sincere than unsure. "That aside, your offer holds appeal."
"And such a loss is so great," he frowns; a statement as if he remembers it. He does. He doesn't remember what he felt before his Fall but he remembered that loss; a pain suffered every day. Not that Belial would really complain. He loved what he did.
"But you must know there is truth to the words that I play favorites," there's a tiny grin. The brushes a thumb over the other's cheeks. "And how I do treat them so well; and you are a favorite, Belphegor."
He freezes at the touch -- not recoiling nor relaxing into it -- and just stares, weighing his options. "I will consider this, darling, since you opt to be so kind to me." Again, the truth -- not that he can help it.
"But I must ask; why is it that I am such a favorite among your playthings?"
There might be the slightest hint of Pride in his smile, but it's not unfounded -- he is all that Belial claims, and he knows it. "You flatter me, darling."
Belial makes a face with a tiny grin. His hand sliding off and drizzling over Bel's chest just long enough before it falls away. "Oh, don't play. You are better, smarter, and stronger than a handful of my soldiers combined and you know it."
"Certainly this is true," he smiled a little more. Fingers weaved into the others. It wasn't like Belial was ever going to be the type to settle, and find redemption, and all that kinds of things. He didn't really understand it. He felt these things for so few and less so for anyone but this one by his side now.
"Your choice is yours Belphegor," he shrugs. "I just know how fickle He is. One day you're being virtuous and the next you're being sinful, but you're not doing anything different. He just didn't like it one day."
"I am glad you think so," he says, returning the smile, fingers entwined with Belial's. As a rule, he does not do intimacy, but Belial is a brother and a friend and it feels blissfully natural.
"As I said, I will consider it." And he will, because his position as an anah is neither clear to him nor fulfilling, although the company is significantly improved from Hell.
Belial might be manipulative but he was honest with his ideal of freedom. A balance between sin and virtue. That was how things were intended before two big spoiled little brothers decided their stupid ancient strife with each other was more important. Besides, Earth was his. Mankind was stupid but heck they were fun.
"It wasn't I who put this spell upon you, but I can break it."
"I believe you," and to his utmost surprise, he does, because Belial has never needed magic to draw the truth out from Belphegor's lips -- he's talented enough that it's unnecessary.
"And I would very much appreciate that, before I embarrass myself further," he says, a slight grin twitching on his lips.
He had a convenient appeal. Belief had a convenient appeal. Belief made thousands of men decide to kill, made thousands of men decide to sacrifice themselves for something, made Heaven fall apart, made Hell rise. Maybe it was all just God's whisper; His plan. Who knew, but believe in something strong enough and you can do powerful things.
Belial stood planting a hand to Bel's forehead. A sharp pain, possibly sharo enough to knock the other over, would shoot through him but it lasted only a few seconds and the spell would be gone.
Belphegor is tough: the fragile frame and feminine body have won him countless battles purely because of the number of people who underestimate his resilience. Instead of falling he just lets his body sag into Belial's for one long moment, gripping the hand in his tightly with a low groan.
Then, all too soon, he lifts his head and says, "Much better. I thank you."
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"But you must know there is truth to the words that I play favorites," there's a tiny grin. The brushes a thumb over the other's cheeks. "And how I do treat them so well; and you are a favorite, Belphegor."
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"But I must ask; why is it that I am such a favorite among your playthings?"
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"Your choice is yours Belphegor," he shrugs. "I just know how fickle He is. One day you're being virtuous and the next you're being sinful, but you're not doing anything different. He just didn't like it one day."
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"As I said, I will consider it." And he will, because his position as an anah is neither clear to him nor fulfilling, although the company is significantly improved from Hell.
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"It wasn't I who put this spell upon you, but I can break it."
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"And I would very much appreciate that, before I embarrass myself further," he says, a slight grin twitching on his lips.
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Belial stood planting a hand to Bel's forehead. A sharp pain, possibly sharo enough to knock the other over, would shoot through him but it lasted only a few seconds and the spell would be gone.
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Then, all too soon, he lifts his head and says, "Much better. I thank you."
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Who's your new family? The ones who aren't angels?
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